


Merry Christmas, Mom and Daddy!

by DKNC



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Children being children, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Gen, hopefully some laughs, maybe a wee bit of sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DKNC/pseuds/DKNC
Summary: When ten year old Robb Stark takes up snow shoveling and earns money to proudly buy his parents "real" Christmas gifts, his younger siblings decide they need to get Ned and Catelyn "real" presents, too. Since they have no money at all, seven and half year old Sansa, five year old Arya, and just barely four year old Bran enlist the help of Uncles Edmure and Benjen to make their "really great present ideas" happen. Their uncles happily assist the kids with their Christmas plans because they agree that the present ideas are too spectacular to pass up. Of course, their motives are very different from the children's, and the two young men eagerly anticipate the most entertaining family Christmas ever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a bit of silliness because last year's Christmas fic was SO MUCH ANGST. Several people asked me for fluff and humor, so hopefully this will be good for a few laughs when all is said and done. Characters will be added as they appear. Not sure exactly how many chapters it's going to be but it'll be single digits, and they should be fairly short (for me) so hopefully I can get the whole thing posted in a reasonable amount of time.

Brynden Tully heard the phone ring as he walked by the kitchen at Riverrun but had no intention of picking it up. Anyone he cared about had his cell number, and he had no desire to converse with telemarketers or the good people from St. Aloysius attempting to recruit more men to sing in this year’s Christmas choir. The machine picked up after he had passed the kitchen, however, and he heard a very young feminine voice say, “Uncle Edmure? Are you there?”

That caused Brynden to reverse course immediately, running back to the kitchen to pick up the phone before she hung up. “Is that you, Mini Cat?” he asked.

Giggles came from the other end of the line. “Yes, Uncle Brynden. May I speak with Uncle Edmure, please?”

“How do you know this is Brynden, young lady?” he asked with mock severity.

More giggles. “Because your voice is growlier than Uncle Edmure’s, and Grandpa doesn’t call me Mini Cat,” she informed him. “And I really need to speak with Uncle Edmure, please.”

“You wound me, Mini Cat. But if I’m not good enough for you, I’ll see if I can find him.”

“Oh no, I don’t mean it like that!” she cried, and at the obvious distress in her voice, Brynden felt guilty for teasing her. His great niece was a sensitive little soul who rarely said an unkind word to anyone except her siblings when she was annoyed with them. “It’s just that I have to ask him . . .”

“We!” another even younger and rather aggravated voice interrupted. “We have something to ask him! It was my idea, Sansa. Stop hogging the phone!” After what sounded alarmingly like a minor scuffle, that same voice said, “I’m here, too, Uncle Brynden.”

He laughed. “So I hear, Little Wolf. Did you take the phone away from your sister? If so, you should apologize.”

“No, I shouldn’t. She was supposed to be holding it so we could both hear and talk. Only she wasn’t. Are you gonna get Uncle Edmure?”

Brynden suppressed another laugh. Where seven and a half year old Sansa was almost too polite for a child of her age, five year old Arya tended to forget about manners entirely when worked up about anything, and his niece and her husband felt that laughter only encouraged that tendency. “What’s this all about, girls?” he asked as seriously as he could.

“It’s about . . .” Sansa’s voice was too muffled for him to make out whatever else she said, and he sighed.

“You need to do a better job of sharing that phone, girls. Are you in the kitchen or your father’s study?” As far as he could recall, those were the only landline phones still in the Stark household. 

“Daddy’s study,” Arya answered, surprising him. Ned and Catelyn kept their landline because they didn’t allow their young children to have cell phones. Cat had programmed the kitchen phone with the cell numbers of all close family members as well as her and Ned’s work numbers so the kids could always reach someone in an emergency. Ned Stark had also kept the phone in his study simply because he was used to having it. Brynden sometimes made fun of his niece’s husband for being more old-fashioned in some ways than men decades older.

Sansa was saying something he couldn’t hear again, and then another apparent scuffle took place over the phone before Sansa’s voice came through clearly. “Mom’s been in the kitchen forever so we can’t call from there. And I can’t find Uncle Edmure’s phone number anywhere in Daddy’s office, but the number for Riverrun was in a little book in his desk.”

Now Arya was protesting about something in the background, and Brynden sighed deeply. If his two great nieces, who generally spent more time arguing with each other than conspiring together, were digging through their father’s desk drawers to make secret phone calls, something fishy was going on. He’d never get to the bottom of it, however, if they continued to fight over who held the phone.

“Sansa,” he said clearly, using her given name in an attempt to sound authoritative instead of the nickname he’d bestowed upon her as a tot—when it had already been clear she’d be the image of her mother. “Your father’s desk phone has a speaker function. Find that button and push it, and then you can both hear me, and I can hear both of you.”

“Arya, shut the door,” he heard Sansa say. A moment later, he heard her say, “I think that’s it. Can you hear me, Uncle Brynden?”

“Loud and clear, Mini Cat.”

“Shhh!” she said. “This speaker thing is really loud so you have to talk quietly. If Mom hears us, everything will be ruined.”

“Yeah, Christmas presents have to be surprises!” came Arya’s voice equally clearly.

“Ah,” Brynden said. “This is a secret Christmas mission you intend to get Edmure involved in then, is it?”

“Uh huh,” said Arya. “We’re getting the best present for Mom, and dumb old Robb is not included. Just Bran. And Baby Rickon, I guess. Even though he doesn’t really know about Christmas yet.”

“Come on now, Little Wolf. It isn’t very nice to call your brother dumb. What did Red Robb do to you?”

“Nothing, really, Uncle Brynden. It’s just that he’s been shoveling snow for Mrs. Hornwood and the Glovers and some other people, and he . . .”

“He shoveled Mr. Bolton’s driveway once,” Arya interrupted. “But he only gave him half as much money as everybody else does, so he won’t do his anymore because he’s an old cheapskate.”

Brynden did laugh at that. He knew Roose Bolton and agreed with his great-nephew’s assessment of the man.

“Arya! That doesn’t matter. Anyway, Robb had the money from snow shoveling and Jon’s dad sent him money in the mail, so Robb and Jon both think they’re all grown up and rich and they got Aunt Lya to take them Christmas shopping. So, Robb has presents for Mom and Dad and we don’t.”

“Girls, I thought your parents always took you kids shopping and let you pick out presents for them.”

“Yeah, but Robb says they’re stressed,” Arya said, emphasizing the last word.

“Stressed?” Brynded repeated.

“About everyone coming here,” Sansa said. “Instead of Riverrun or Winterfell.”

“Ah,” Brynden said. Ever since Robb was born, the Starks and Tullys had alternated hosting Christmas dinner for both extended families either here at Riverrun or at Rickard Stark’s estate, Winterfell, because both grandfathers wanted to spend every Christmas with their grandchildren. In recent years, Catelyn had lobbied rather hard to host dinner at her and Ned’s house, stating that dragging the children away from their newly discovered Christmas toys before noon on Christmas day was becoming more difficult every year. So Hoster and Rickard had agreed last Christmas to let her host the big dinner this year. Of course, she’d turned up pregnant again right around New Year’s, but the fact that she now had a three month old baby at home along with four other kids had not deterred her in her determination to do all of Christmas for everyone at her house this year in the slightest.

“But Mom says she’s not stressed,” Sansa continued. 

“I don’t even know what stressed is,” Arya piped in, emphasizing the word ‘stressed’ once more. “But if it means the same as busy all the time, then she is stressed.”

“She said not to bother dad about taking us shopping,” Sansa continued as if Arya hadn’t spoken. “That she’d take us all out and help us buy presents for both of them. But how can she help us buy her own present? That’s crazy! And Robb keeps saying that Mom and Dad shouldn’t pay for their own presents, either, or they’re not really presents.”

“And we want our present to be as real as dumb old Robb’s!”

“And we have a really good idea for Mom’s present.”

“It was my idea! I thought of it!” Arya put in quickly.

“Yes,” Sansa agreed, much to Brynden’s surprise. “Arya came up with a really good idea. Only we don‘t have any money, and we don’t have a way to get to the store and . . .”

“You decided to hit up your Uncle Edmure,” Brynden said with a grin on his face. No one could call Cat’s little girls stupid. They had Edmure wrapped around their fingers and they knew it. So be it. Their mother had spent her childhood getting anything she wanted from him with just a smile on her cute little face and a pleading look in those big blue eyes. It was only fair for Edmure to take his turn. “I’ll get him, girls.”

“Thanks, Uncle Brynden!” the two chimed in almost perfect unison.

“You’re welcome Mini Cat, Little Wolf. It’s nice that you’re working together.”

He laid the phone down and walked out of the kitchen, shouting for Edmure. He knew if Hoster heard him, he would likely fuss at him over raising his voice inside, but the house was simply too damn big to go searching all over it. And Hoster was an old fusspot. Brynden loved his brother, but he was counting the days until the grumpy old coot was cleared by his physical therapist to walk anywhere he wanted without his walker or his cane. He’d moved back to Riverrun temporarily to help Edmure out after Hoster’s hip replacement surgery as Cat could only come down on some weekend days and really shouldn’t be doing even that considering all she had on her plate already. Lysa had come only once after being thoroughly guilt-tripped by her brother. Edmure had really stepped up, and Brynden was proud of him. And Hoster was getting better. He was certainly looking forward to Christmas at Cat’s house. Maybe if that little excursion went well, Brynden could celebrate the new year by moving back to his own apartment and life. He loved his brother with all his heart, but he liked him much better in smaller doses. To be fair, Hoster likely felt the same way about him.

“Geez, Uncle B! Stop hollering at me. Where’s the fire?”

“No fire,” Brynden said to his nephew who had appeared on the staircase from the second floor. “Cat’s girls are on the phone for you.”

“Mini and Wolf?” Edmure asked in confusion, pulling his cell phone from his jeans pocket to stare at it rather stupidly. 

“On the house phone,” Brynden clarified, rolling his eyes. “You remember the house phone. In the kitchen?”

“But why would they call on that? And what do they want?”

“Maybe you should go pick up the phone and ask them.”

Edmure gave him an exasperated look, but jogged down the rest of the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. Brynden followed as far as the doorway and paused there to listen a moment as Edmure picked it up.

“Hello? . . . Of course, it’s me! What do my two favorite nieces need from me today?”

Brynden smiled at his nephew as he recalled similar conversations he’d held with Edmure and his sisters when they were small. Edmure’s face and voice became quite animated as he spoke with the little girls. He’d always been good with all of Cat’s children, but Brynden suspected the girls were his favorites. He watched Edmure chat with happily them for a moment and then turned to go.

Just as he was stepping out of the kitchen, however, Edmure’s voice suddenly sounded a bit sharper. “Wait . . . you want to get her what?” There was a brief pause and then, “Yes, Mini Cat, I know your mother hates to be cold, but what makes you think that . . .” Another pause, long enough for Brynden to turn around and see a look of utter shock on his nephew’s face. “Holy shit,” Edmure breathed. He then looked up toward Brynden as if he were going to burst into laughter or tears. Brynden couldn’t quite tell.

“What?” Edmure said then, looking away from Brynden to give his full attention to the phone. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mini Cat. I didn’t mean to say a bad word. I . . um . . I banged my food on the chair just then and it hurt like the devil. . . . . . No, Little Wolf. It is absolutely not all right for you to say that word if you get hurt. I shouldn’t have said it and don’t you dare repeat it. Your mother will kill me.”

More silence, and Brynden thought the girls must both be talking quite a lot. Edmure’s face was turning a rather violent shade of red, and he was now quite obviously expending tremendous effort to hold back laughter. 

“No . . . no,” he finally said. “I think it’s a brilliant gift. Very thoughtful of you.” He held the phone away and covered the mouth piece as he shook with laughter for a moment. Composing himself, he brought it back up to his face to speak again. “What? Oh no. I just had to cough . . . . Oh, I know she’ll love it. And when she hears just how you thought of it, Little Wolf, she’ll be so proud.” Tears were now streaming from Edmure’s eyes. 

Brynden raised his eyebrows in question when Edmure looked up at him again, but his nephew merely shook his head and fought back laughter again. “No, I can’t tomorrow. I have to work. But I’ve got all day free the next day. I tell you what. I’ll not only pay for whatever you pick out, we can make an afternoon of it and stop for ice skating and hot chocolate at the park while we’re out.”

Brynden could hear the high pitched squeals of excitement that came through the phone from where he was standing, and Edmure made a pained face and held the phone at arm’s length. “Yes,” he said when the squeals died down and he gingerly put the phone back to his ear. “I’ll text your mom and ask if I can take the two of you skating. She won’t even have to know we’re going shopping. Okay?”

He smiled at whatever the girls replied. “I love you, too. See you in two days, favorite nieces!”

He then hung up the phone, threw his head back, and exclaimed “Holy fucking god!” as he collapsed into a fit of uncontrollable laughter that had Brynden seriously wondering if he’d taken leave of his senses.

“Edmure!” Brynden finally snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you? What on earth did the girls say to you?”

Edmure continued to laugh but held his hand up in a gesture indicating that Brynden should wait a moment.

“Oh, Uncle Brynden,” his nephew finally sighed, his voice still shaking with laughter. “I adore those two, I really do.”

“We all love the girls, Edmure,” Brynden said in exasperation. “But what on earth have they done to put you in such a state?”

Edmure just laughed some more and then wiped tears from his eyes as he rose from the chair he’d been sitting in. 

“Edmure Tully! Quit cackling like a hyena and tell me what they said!”

At that, Edmure took a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. “Oh, I can’t do that, Uncle B. They swore me to secrecy.” He moved to walk past Brynden out of the kitchen, but paused and put a hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “I will tell you this much, though. This Christmas at Cat and Ned’s may well be the most entertaining holiday we’ve ever had.”

With that enigmatic remark, Edmure gave his uncle’s shoulder a pat and walked out into the hallway, laughing uproariously once more and leaving Brynden Tully looking toward Christmas Day at his niece’s house with both curiosity and trepidation.


	2. Chapter 2

Edmure Tully couldn’t stop grinning as his best friend doubled over in laughter. “Best shopping trip ever, Ben. I swear those two are the best entertainment around. When they’re not trying to kill each other, that is.” 

Benjen took a deep breath and shook his head. “Your sister’ll be trying to kill you, come Christmas Day, my friend,” he said with another laugh. “Did you really think this through? Sansa may be Mini Cat, but don’t forget Arya’s her kid, too. Cat can be damn scary if you piss her off badly enough.”

Edmure shrugged. “She’ll be okay with this. I grew up with her, remember? She’s gonna blush a lot and maybe even throw some non-lethal objects at me, but eventually she’ll think it’s funny. She’s a pretty good sport.”

“She is,” Benjen said hesitantly, “But with my dad and your dad there? Not to mention your other sister. God only knows how Lysa will react. I mean, you gotta admit, she tends to overreact to pretty much everything.”

In truth, Edmure had worried a bit that Lysa would just love to take something hilarious and suck all the fun right out of it, but his Uncle Brynden would be there, and he could usually keep Lysa under control better than anyone else. Certainly better than that old man Lysa had married. Her husband Jon was older than Uncle B, and maybe even older than their father. But Lysa was the queen of inexplicably bad choices. Edmure loved her, but he’d long ago given up trying to figure out why she did anything she did. “Lysa won’t be a big deal. Cat and I have both pretty much developed immunity to the worst of her comments by now,” he assured Benjen, silently hoping he was right about that.

“I have some more news on the Christmas guest list,” Benjen said then. “My brother has now confirmed he’s gracing us with his presence.”

“Your brother’s the host, Ben,” Edmure started to say, but then he looked closely at Benjen’s face. “You mean Brandon? Brandon is actually showing up for Christmas dinner?”

“Yep.”

“Well, fuck.” Brandon Stark rarely showed up at the joint family celebration when it was held at Riverrun, but the past few years, he hadn’t even come on the Winterfell years. Not that Edmure missed him. Brandon had actually dated Catelyn briefly. Screwed around on her and got his ass dumped. Ended up marrying his high school girlfriend who had an eight pound kid about six and a half months after the wedding, and then he had the nerve to get a shitty attitude when Ned and Cat started dating over a year after all of that happened. Catelyn always told him that Brandon was just unhappy with his life, and that Edmure shouldn’t pay him any attention, but Edmure didn’t see how the fact that Brandon Stark had fucked up his own life gave him the right be nasty to Cat. “Is he bringing Barbrey and the kids?”

Ben shook his head. “She left him.”

“Again?”

Benjen actually laughed at that. “Yep. This time she actually served him with papers, though. She wants a divorce. She’s taken Edwyle and Beth off on some trip with her family. Brandon gets them for a few days when they get back.”

“Damn,” Edmure said, shaking his head. “I mean they’ve made each other miserable for years, but still. How old is his boy now?”

“Fourteen,” Ben said. “And Bethany’s eight. They came to Dad’s on Thanksgiving so we at least got see the kids then.”

“That’s rough.” Edmure did feel bad for Brandon’s kids. He could even muster a bit of sympathy for Brandon missing out on Christmas with his kids. But if that asshole said one nasty thing to Cat at Christmas dinner, he might have to kill him.

“I see that look on your face, Edmure Tully,” Ben said then. “Before you plan my brother’s murder, just remember you’re the one who took our angelic nieces out to buy their mother that thoughtful gift.” A grin slowly spread across Ben’s long Stark face. “And whatever happens at dinner, man, I still think it’s kind of awesome that you did! At least this year’s gift exchange won’t be boring!” Then Benjen was laughing again, and Edmure found himself joining in.

“I didn’t even know they even made those things for grown women,” Ben said after a moment.

“Oh, they do. Loads of ‘em! All different colors and shit. And of course, Mini and Wolf kept picking out different ones and arguing about whose selection was best. It was funny for the first hour, but then I had to give them an ultimatum—pick one they could both live with in the next five minutes or no ice skating.”

“That gets them every time,” Benjen laughed. “Ice skating is one thing those two can always agree on doing.” He jumped in his chair and reached around to his back pocket. “Hang on. Somebody’s calling me.” Ben looked at the phone screen and smiled before putting the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Red Robb, what are you up to?”

Edmure smiled at Benjen’s use of the nickname Uncle B had bestowed upon their oldest shared nephew. Benjen had adopted all of the nicknames much more readily than the rest of the Starks. Edmure liked his brother-in-law well enough. Really he liked all the Starks with the possible exception of Brandon. But he and Ben had clicked from the moment they met. They were both the youngest of their siblings by a good bit although Ben was a couple years older than Edmure. They shared a similar sense of humor, and Edmure had quickly latched onto Ben as the older brother he’d never had. He loved his sisters dearly, but he’d been so pleased to acquire a male family member close to him in age that he once told Cat that if she and Ned ever split up, the Tullys were keeping Benjen. 

“Robb, I can’t help Bran if you don’t tell me what it is he wants from me,” Benjen was saying. 

Edmure shot him a questioning look, and Ben shrugged and gave him an expression that clearly said, “I have no clue.”

“Speaker,” Edmure mouthed silently, now curious. They were sitting in a sports bar, but the place was pretty much deserted at the moment as it was past lunch but before happy hour. Benjen rolled his eyes, but tapped the screen, and Edmure heard his nephew’s voice.

“I don’t know what he wants, Uncle Ben. He says it’s a secret, but that I had to help him call you. He’s not that great with the phone yet.”

“I can do the phone!” came a plaintive voice in the background. “I can’t read the names! There are too many B names!”

Edmure covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Bran had a point. Barely four years old, the kid was smart, knew all his letters, and could read a few words, but Cat’s list of pre-programmed numbers would include Brynden, Brandon, Benjen, Barbrey . . . well, maybe she could at least take that last one off now. 

“Put him on the phone, Robb,” Benjen said.

“Hi Uncle Ben!” Bran shouted.

“Hey, Monkey! The phone works just fine. No need to shout,” Ben said, looking around the bar to see if anyone was staring.

“I’m not a monkey. I’m a boy,” Bran insisted. Bran had become fairly literal-minded of late, and this was currently his standard response when addressed by the nickname Brynden had bestowed upon him.

“Of course, you are. A little boy who climbs like a monkey! What do you need, buddy?”

“Help.”

“Okay,” Ben said slowly, looking at Edmure and shrugging again. “What kind of help exactly?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Monkey, how can I help you if I don’t know what you need?”

“I can’t tell you because it’s a secret.”

“Oh. Well, it’s important to keep secrets, but I can’t help you with a secret that I don’t know about. I promise not to tell anyone if you share your secret with me.”

Bran huffed. “I can’t tell it cuz Robb’s here! Arya said no telling Robb. And Sansa said Arya had to watch me real careful because I’m a baby. I’m not a baby. I’m a boy. And I can keep a secret.”

“Of course, you aren’t a baby. Can you ask Robb to leave?”

“He won’t go.”

“It’s my house! I live here and I can be wherever I want in it!” came Robb’s voice.

Edmure shook his head. Robb was normally very good with his younger siblings, but recently he’d been sort of torn between being too big to play with “little kids” but still feeling left out when his younger siblings seemed to have fun without him. If the girls had been going on about their Christmas secret, he was probably feeling very antagonistic toward the younger kids at the moment, especially if Jon wasn’t around for him to hang out with.

“Okay, you two. Play nice,” Ben was saying. “Monkey, I promised your dad I’d come help him put up more of the outdoor lights today. If you can keep this secret all to yourself for a couple more hours, we’ll go out for a drive in my car—and you can tell me all about it where nobody else can hear. How does that sound?”

“You’ll be here soon?” It wasn’t quite a whine, but it was close. Bran had not yet adapted to no longer being the baby of the family, even if he didn’t like being called a baby.

Benjen looked at his watch. “In a little over an hour, okay?” 

“Okay. Bye, Uncle Ben! . . . . . . . Robb! Come here and hang it up!”

“Geez, Bran! It’s not hard to hang up a phone!”

At that point, the call disconnected, and Edmure and Benjen allowed themselves to laugh.

“If the girls are involved, do think this is more of their Christmas plotting, Ed?” Benjen asked with a bit of gleam in his eye. Edmure knew he felt kind of left out that the girls hadn’t included him in their plotting. Bran choosing to call him probably soothed that a bit.

“Well,” Edmure said. “They hadn’t come up with anything for Ned yet, and they categorically rejected getting him something like Cat’s present. I totally tried to talk them into it because I’d have paid good money to see your brother with one of those, but they’re convinced he’s happier . . . um, as he is. Since he never gets cold and all.” Edmure laughed at the face Benjen made.

“Ugh. You can stop now. I just . . . Did you ever think the two of them . . .”

“Come on, Benjen, how old are you?” Edmure laughed. “They do have five kids, you know.”

“I know, I know. It’s just . . . Ned. And Cat! I mean, seriously. She’s your sister. Did you ever imagine that she’s just . . . all the time? I can’t see it.”

“Well, you’d better damn well not see it. Like you said, she is my sister, dude. Her personal life is her own business, but I may have to punch you if you’re trying to picture it.”

“No! That’s not what . . . Never mind. It’s just Ned and Cat are so . . . responsible, you know. So . . . I don’t know—proper, I guess.”

“It’s always the quiet ones, my friend,” Edmure said with a smirk.”

“Damn! Doesn’t it bother you at all to know something like that about your sister? I sure as hell don’t wanna know any personal details about Lya.”

“Well, you’re kind of outta luck then, aren’t you? Lyanna’s the most in your face, no topic off limits person I’ve ever met, Ben, and that’s saying something.”

“True, but I make a point of not listening. You, on the other hand, are interrogating our nieces for juicy info.”

“I have interrogated no one. All information that has come into my possession is entirely unsolicited. And I’m a mature adult who’s perfectly okay with knowing that my sister is happy in her marriage.”

“A mature adult who’s looking forward to exploiting some of her particular happiness for his own amusement on Christmas Day.”

“I didn’t say I was always mature.” He grinned at Benjen. “And you’d better get out of here if you’re going to make it to Ned’s and Cat’s in an hour.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you this weekend at the Lannisters’ thing?”

“As long as Roslin’s not going. She’s getting clingy again. I suggest we make plans for New Year’s Eve and she starts picking out china patterns.” Edmure shuddered. 

“You’re the worst boyfriend ever, Tully.”

“I’m a great boyfriend. I’m just not looking to be anybody’s husband yet. I’ll let Cat have all the wedded bliss in the family for at least another ten years. Speaking of which, if you get any unsolicited information out of Monkey in the name of Christmas that’s even half as good as what I got from the girls, you’d better call me and share the second you leave him.”

Benjen laughed and promised as he rose to go. Several hours later, Edmure found himself half regretting that promise.

“You are fucking kidding me,” he said into his phone. “You are making this up, Stark.”

“I swear to God I am not making this up, Ed. I can’t believe it myself, but that’s what he told me. And he asked me to help him buy his dad’s present.”

“And you’re actually going to do it? I mean, what on earth is Ned going to do with something like that?”

“Honestly, I don’t want to think about that too much. But what else am I supposed to do, Edmure? Tell him his mother lied to him?”

“No, you can’t do that. Where are you even going to shop for it? Those stores all gone now.”

“On line. I can get it shipped in time if I order it tonight. Monkey’s so excited about this, too. Says this’ll be his dad’s best present ever because ties are stupid and he has too many of them. I just hope Ned can see the humor in it.”

“Well, the kids came up with their presents all on their own. We just provided transportation, purchase assistance, and financial support. And we’re pretty much all in now so here’s hoping everybody’s laughing with us on Christmas.”

“Yep. For better or worse, everybody’s gonna remember this Christmas for a long time, Tully. So we’d better go into it ready to laugh.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you soon, Stark.”

As he hung up the phone, it occurred to Edmure that he’d have found Benjen’s entire conversation with Bran beyond hilarious if it had been about anybody else on the planet. But it seemed there were some things he really didn’t want to know about his sister’s personal life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Catelyn actually do appear in this fic, I promise! In fact, they make their first appearance in the very next chapter. :-)


	3. Chapter 3

Three days before Christmas, Catelyn Stark’s brain was in overdrive as she pulled into her driveway, scrolling through the seemingly endless things she still needed to accomplish. The older children had been off school for the past two days, so she’d given herself a day off from preparing for the family holiday gathering yesterday to bake Christmas cookies with all of them. She loved “Cookie Day” as Robb had christened it years ago—just her and her babies spending as much time playing as actual baking, but somehow always managing to produce a surprisingly good amount of Christmas cookies by the time Ned came in from work. He’d asked her if she wanted him to start his Christmas holiday early this year to help her with the cookie baking because he knew how frazzled she was getting over having everything ready for Christmas Day. She loved him for it, but she’d declined for purely selfish reasons. Cookie Day belonged to her and the kids, just as traipsing through the woods in the cold to find a perfect tree belonged to Ned and the kids. The two of them had developed countless little traditions over the years that they loved enjoying as an entire family, but Catelyn believed that special time for the kids with just one parent or the other was just as important in its own way. To Ned and and herself as much as to the kids. And Ned, God bless him, had understood that without her having to explain.

Yesterday had been good for her soul. She’d refused to let her mind wander to how many hours she still had before Christmas Eve, before people started arriving Christmas Day, before dinner would be served on Christmas Day. Today, however, her first thought upon waking had been that she’d completely forgotten about candy for the kids’ stockings followed closely by remembering that she still needed two red table cloths because she wanted to put both big tables in one room to keep everyone together for the meal, and the two Christmas table cloths she had were different shades of red that looked awful right next to each other. After she’d sat up in bed and announced that she had to get to the store and back before the kids woke up, Ned had pulled her back down and reminded her that he was now officially off work until the twenty-eighth and that since he was more than capable of making breakfast for his own children whenever they woke up, she didn’t need to rush. She’d protested briefly, but then allowed him to coax her to stay in bed awhile longer, laughing at the smug look on his face when she finally pulled herself out of his arms to at least shower before Rickon woke. “After all, you can’t make HIS breakfast, Eddard Stark!” she’d teased him.

Rickon had uncharacteristically chosen to wake at the perfect time for her to nurse him just before leaving, and she’d hopefully gotten him full enough that he’d last until her return (although there was breastmilk in the freezer if needed). Then she’d kissed Ned, handed him their youngest, offered a silent prayer that the others would sleep at least long enough for Ned to get him settled, and dashed out of the house. Of course, her mind had recalled several other things she needed as she drove away, not all of which could be acquired in one place, so her morning shopping excursion had taken longer than she had originally intended. Hopefully, the kids weren’t driving Ned crazy or destroying the house. 

She parked in the driveway rather than pulling into the garage. There were quite few Santa gifts in the trunk of Ned’s car that needed to be sneaked downstairs and hidden in the back room after the kids went to sleep tonight, and it was much easier to maneuver large objects through the garage with only one vehicle parked in it. As she climbed out of the car, shutting her door and turning to open the back seat door to grab the bag she’d put back there, she was rather shocked to hear her name called from somewhere up above.

She whirled around to face the house and looked up at the window, but saw no one.

“Did you get everything you need, Cat?”

Raising her eyes even higher than the second-story window in search of her husband’s voice, Catelyn was startled to see him standing on the roof with one of the miniature lighted reindeer that Ned and Benjen had set up in the front yard dangling from his right hand.

“Ned! What in God’s name are you doing up there?” she cried out.

“Well,” her husband replied. “Bran pointed out that Santa lands his sleigh directly on top of the house and that it didn’t make any sense to have Christmas reindeer in the yard so . . .”

“Eddard Stark! Have you lost your mind? Bran is four years old! You come down here right now, and we’ll go tell him that we’ve always put the deer in the yard and that . . .”

“Cat . . .” he interrupted. Then he inclined his head toward his right.

Following his gaze, Catelyn looked up to the even higher level of the roof near the chimney which vented the fireplace in the great room. The other three lighted reindeer stood in a row there, looking for all the world as if they’d just come in for a landing. She shook her head and sighed. “Have you got them secured down somehow?” she asked.

He grinned and nodded. “Took me awhile to figure something out, but they aren’t going anywhere. It’s quick work now that I know what I’m doing. I’ll be down in just a moment. Anything else in the car you need carried in?”

“A couple bags in the very back. Nothing that needs to go in right away. And leave the one bag with the” She mouthed the word ‘candy’. “Nothing else needs to be hidden. Please don’t rush, and please don’t kill yourself. Has Rickon had a bottle or were you able to hold him off?”

“No bottle. He ought to be hungry by now, though.”

“Oh, good. My boobs are about to explode! Speaking of Rickon, however, what have you done with our children while you’re out here playing with reindeer?”

“Oh! My dad’s here.”

“What? You called Rickard to come over and . . .”

“No! He just showed up. Said Benjen asked him to drop something off for Bran.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Dad said he thought it was something Bran had forgotten in Ben’s car. And as long as he was here, I asked if he minded watching them all long enough for me to do this.”

She frowned up at him with mock severity. “Well, I’ll go rescue him then. You be careful!”

He laughed at her. “You go feed the baby! Wouldn’t want your boobs to explode. I’m rather fond of them!” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She stuck her tongue out at him and walked on to the front door. “I’m home!” she called out as she entered the house.

“Hi, Mommy!” came the sound of Arya’s voice from the direction of the great room. 

Catelyn set her bag down on the table in the entryway, headed in that direction, and was met by her younger daughter barreling into her and throwing her skinny arms around her before she got there. 

“You were gone when we waked up! Daddy let us put sugar on our pancakes!” Arya exclaimed.

“I had to go to the store, sweetling,” Catelyn replied, reaching down to remove Arya’s arms from around her before kneeling down to hug the girl tightly in her own arms. Then she set the little girl back from her just far enough to look into her eyes. “And while no one needs sugar on a breakfast food that’s already as sweet as pancakes and syrup, it isn’t any nicer to tattle on Daddy than it is to tattle on your sister or brothers.”

“I’m sorry,” Arya said without sounding repentant at all. “Are you mad at him now?”

“No, Arya, I’m not mad at him. Where are your brothers and sister?”

“Me and Bran are watching cartoons with Granddad. I don’t know where Robb and Sansa are.”

“What about the baby?”

“He started screaming, but Granddad is bouncing him and he finally stopped. He probably wants booby milk.”

_And you probably told your grandfather just that,_ Catelyn thought. All of her children completely unselfconsciously referred to breastmilk as booby milk—something Robb had christened it back when she was nursing Sansa. It didn’t faze Ned or herself, but others sometimes raised an eyebrow when they heard one of the kids say it. Rickard Stark was a pretty unflappable man, but he wasn’t terribly open about discussing anything remotely personal. Hopefully, Arya hadn’t shocked him. 

“Well let’s go rescue Granddad from Rickon, shall we?” she said brightly, standing back up and taking Arya by the hand, 

In the great room, Bran was sprawled on his belly on the floor entirely too close to the television for Catelyn’s taste, with his eyes glued to some animated show. Her father-in-law sat on one of the sofas, bouncing her three month old son up and down in a rather exaggerated fashion just as Arya had reported. 

“Hello, Rickard! Here . . . let me take him before your arms fall off.” She reached out for Rickon, and Rickard relinquished him without hesitation. 

“I think he’s gained five pounds since the last time I saw him,” Rickard said, making Catelyn laugh. 

“In reality, probably not,” she replied as she moved to sit down in a chair with the baby who was now beginning to fuss in her arms. “But carry him around for a few more hours, and you’ll swear he’s gained ten. At least that’s how I feel about it. Sometimes, I swear the pediatrician’s lying when she tells me his weight at check-ups!” Catelyn threw the shawl that had been draped over the back of the chair over her left shoulder, deftly unfastened the top few buttons of her blouse and pushed aside the flap on her nursing bra to allow Rickon to latch onto her nipple with his head and her breast mostly covered by the shawl. She’d been terribly shy about nursing Robb in front of anyone other than Ned or her sister, but Rickon was her fifth kid. She’d nursed all of them and had long ago decided she wasn’t going to spend hours every day hiding away somewhere because her child was hungry. She’d cover up as much as was reasonably possible when anyone other than Ned and the children were around, but that was it. Their extended family and most of their good friends had long ago grown accustomed to it. 

“I figured that was his problem,” Rickard said as all infant fussing ceased immediately. “But there wasn’t much I could do for him as I’m not much of a booby milk dispenser.” 

Her father-in-law had spoken in his usual cool manner, but Catelyn knew him well enough after all these years to laugh at his use of the children’s terminology. “No, I suppose not. Didn’t Ned tell you there’s milk for him in the fridge? Of course, getting that would be his job, not yours. Thank you, Rickard, for watching over them while my husband’s out there trying to break his neck." 

“Daddy’s not trying to break his neck!” Bran exclaimed. He’d jumped up and run to her chair as soon as she’d sat down with Rickon, but hadn’t spoken until then. The multiple talks Ned had given the children recently about interrupting seemed to have made an impression on him at least. Those talks were aimed primarily at Arya, but Catelyn wasn’t certain any amount of lecturing could overcome that child’s natural impulsiveness. “Daddy’s making our reindeer fly to the roof like Santa’s. He promised,” Bran said solemnly. 

“Well, he’s keeping his promise, sweetling,” Catelyn said, scooting over slightly in the chair so the little boy could squeeze in beside her and kissing him on his forehead. “He’s putting the last one up there now.” 

“Cool! Can we go out and see?” Arya shouted, already heading back toward the front door. 

“Not yet!” Catelyn said quickly. “Let Daddy finish up and get all the ladders put away, and then all of you children can go outside and see the reindeer and play for a bit.” She’d learned the hard way not to allow Bran around any ladder unless she wanted to find him at the top of it in under thirty seconds, and she wasn’t going to let the other kids go outside without him if he was the mastermind behind reindeer on the roof in the first place. 

“Mommy? How come there’s only four reindeer?” Bran asked her now. “Santa has eight.” 

“Nine if you count Rudolph!” Arya put in. 

“We have four because they’re only decorations,” she sighed. “And they came in a box of four, not eight.” 

“So if we got another box . . .” Arya said thoughtfully. 

The girl was entirely too good at math for her age. Knowing full well that if she pressed that issue with Ned, he’d be out at the store buying another box of Christmas reindeer they didn’t need and probably looking for one with a big red nose as well, Catelyn thought quickly. “If we got another box, there wouldn’t be any room on the roof for Santa’s real reindeer to land. And then I suppose he’d just have to pass us by.” 

“Four’s enough,” Arya said quickly. “They’re just decorations.” 

“I’m gonna go get Sansa and Robb and tell ‘em we can go outside and see the reindeer now!” Bran exclaimed, jumping off the chair and startling Rickon who let out a single indignant wail before finding the nipple once more and resuming his nursing. 

“Soon, Bran!” Catelyn called after him. “Not now! Soon!” 

Rickard Stark laughed as the boy continued down the hall at a sprint. “That one’s very excited about Christmas,” he said. 

“They all are,” Catelyn said with a smile. 

“Santa Claus comes in two nights,” Arya said, bouncing on her heels. “Just two more nights, Granddad!” 

“Aye, Little Wolf,” Rickard said with a low pitched rumbling sort of laugh. Arya was the only one of the kids he routinely called by the nickname Catelyn’s uncle had given her. “Do you think you can manage to be good for that long?” 

“I’m always good!” Arya protested. Then she bit her lip. “Well, mostly. I’m always mostly good.” 

“I suppose that’s true enough,” Rickard said, rising from his chair. “Now that you’re back to take charge of this menagerie, Cat, I suppose I’ll head on. I have a couple other places to go today.” 

“Oh, I hope Ned didn’t keep you from anything, Rickard.” 

“Oh, no. I enjoyed visiting with my grandkids—well, three of them anyway. Barely saw Robb or Sansa. I guess I’ll go tell them bye before I go, though. Come give me a hug, Little Wolf!” 

Arya ran and leapt up into her grandfather’s arms, and the man lifted and swung her around easily regardless of his age. “Be good. Mostly,” he admonished her with a grin before putting her down. “I’ll see you all on Christmas Day,” he said to Catelyn and Arya both. 

“Thanks again, Rickard,” Catelyn said. Rickon began to squirm beneath the shawl indicating that he’d probably drained that side. By the time Catelyn got him switched around to the other breast, Rickard was gone. “Oh,” she said absently. “I meant to ask him what Bran had left in Ben’s car.” 

“Huh?” Arya said. 

“Oh, nothing, love. Your grandfather brought something over for Bran that he’d left in Ben’s car.” 

“No he didn’t,” Arya said matter-of-factly. “That was a Christmas present.” She made a face. “I think it’s kind of a funny present, but Bran says . . .” She suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes widened with dismay. 

“What is it, Arya? What’s the matter?” 

Arya shook her head, still holding her hand over her mouth. 

“Arya, I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” 

Arya took her hands away from her face but stood there biting her lip. “I can’t tell you, Mommy! Sansa said not to,” she finally wailed. “Don’t tell her I almost told the secret! Please!” 

Catelyn was effectively stuck in her chair while Rickon nursed, but Arya was obviously distressed. She motioned for her daughter to come over and pulled her into her lap. With Rickard gone, it didn’t matter that the shawl was knocked away in the process. “Sweetling,” she said softly, “You haven’t told me anything. It’s okay to tell me that you have a secret. That’s not the same as telling the secret. Okay?” 

Arya actually had tears in her eyes, but she nodded. “Okay.” 

“And this is a Christmas secret?” Catelyn asked gently. 

Arya nodded emphatically. 

Catelyn couldn’t imagine Benjen getting the children involved in anything harmful so she decided not to push Arya any further. “Well, Christmas secrets can be fun. And everyone shares all the secrets once Christmas gets here, so it’s all right. Don’t you worry.” 

“Okay.” She sniffled once and climbed off Catelyn’s lap, standing up very straight. “But you won’t say anything at all to Sansa. Right, Mom?” 

Catelyn tried not to react to Arya’s calling her ‘Mom’. Sansa had begun calling her ‘Mom’ pretty much all the time, and Arya, who would deny to her last breath ever imitating her sister in anything, had started emulating her. She called Catelyn ‘Mom’ nearly half the time now, especially when she was with Sansa or Robb or otherwise trying to act grown up. Catelyn knew it was inevitable, but she was younger than Robb or Sansa had been when they started it, and she wasn’t quite ready to let her littler daughter be too big all at once. 

“Right,” she said. “I promise. Now, why don’t you go see if you can find your sister and brothers. I think Rickon’s about finished, and if your dad doesn’t come in by then, I’ll go out and check on him.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Mom.” The hug she gave Catelyn (much to Rickon’s displeasure) before running off took the sting out of the ‘Mom.’ 

Rickon did indeed finish nursing, and Catelyn had just put him up on her shoulder to burp when she heard her name called from the entryway. 

“In here, Ned!” she called back. 

“Ah,” he said when he came into the room to find her and Rickon there. “I see someone was very happy to see you. Boobs feel better?” 

“Much,” she said with a smirk just as Rickon let out a loud belch. “I think he feels much better, too,” she laughed. 

“Here. I’ll take him.” Ned said, holding out his arms. He picked him up from Catelyn gently, raising him to his own shoulder and rubbing his back only a moment before gently laying him in the bassinet by the sofa. “Food coma,” he said. Then he turned toward Catelyn and held out his arms once more. “Your turn,” he said with a grin. 

“My turn for what?” she asked without moving from the chair. 

“Well, I haven’t gotten to kiss my wife properly yet.” 

“Hmm,” she said, rising slowly. “You mean it was some other man in my bedroom earlier this morning?” 

He grabbed her and pulled her against him as she laughed. “Better not have been,” he growled. “I mean I have not gotten to kiss my wife properly since she deserted me for hours and hours this morning." 

“It wasn’t hours and hours,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “And if you hadn’t been traipsing around on the roof like a crazy man when I got home, you’d have gotten a proper kiss.” 

He didn’t reply. He simply put his lips to hers, and she wound her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. “Mmm,” she said when their lips parted. “I do like proper kisses.” 

“I like improper kisses even better,” he said, moving a hand down to squeeze her ass. 

“Ned!” she laughed, smacking his hand away. “The kids will be in here any minute. Did you put all the ladders away? Bran’s dying to get outside.” 

“All ladders folded up and stacked in the garage,” he assured her. “He’s perfectly capable of climbing them, but not big enough to haul them out and set them up, so all is safe, my love.” 

“Good. Did you see your dad? He said he was heading out.” 

“Yeah. He got out there right after I had the ladders put away, naturally. Dad’s always had good timing like that.” 

Catelyn laughed. “Oh! Whatever he brought over to Bran from Benjen is apparently some Christmas thing. Arya almost told me, but then said it’s a secret.” 

Ned laughed at that. “It seems all our kids have secrets this Christmas. Has Robb had you guess what your present is since you’ve been home? I had to come up with three new outrageous guesses this morning when the kids first got up." 

Catelyn laughed. Robb had bought them Christmas gifts with his own money for the first time ever this year. He was inordinately proud of himself, and he’d pulled the wrapped coffee mug sized boxes that weighed what a coffee mug should weigh out from under the tree to have the two of them guess at what their present might be repeatedly. Coming up with incorrect guesses that weren’t ridiculous was becoming more difficult daily. “I haven’t even seen Robb since I’ve been home. Nor Sansa for that matter. The younger two have gone off to fetch them. I’m chasing them all out of the house for a bit. I’m going to set up the tables for Christmas day. Did you bring those bags in?" 

“They’re on the table by the one you brought in. Oh! I nearly forgot. Lyanna called and asked if she could drop Jon off. She said she has some last minute Christmas shopping to do.” 

Catelyn rolled her eyes. “Which means she has to start her Christmas shopping.” 

“Cat . . .” Ned said. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged him. 

He sighed. “You’re not wrong. We both know she likely hasn’t bought Jon or anyone else a thing yet.” 

Catelyn shook her head. She actually liked her sister-in-law a great deal and admired her insistence upon independence quite a bit. But her lack of organization and habitual procrastination drove her crazy, especially when it came to Jon. The boy deserved a lot more consistency in his life. “Well,” she sighed. “I know she wasn’t happy with Rhaegar sending that chunk of money to him without warning her in advance. Likely she’s been too busy stewing about that to consider doing any Christmas shopping of her own.” 

“She did take the boys out shopping,” Ned reminded her. 

“Yes, she did,” Catelyn acknowledged. 

“You don’t really mind Jon spending the day here, do you?” 

“Of course not! Robb will be thrilled. And maybe with Jon here, he won’t be so snippy with the younger kids and I won’t have to come up with more objects the size of a coffee mug to offer as guesses. I’ve guessed candle three times. He’s going to think I have short term memory loss!” 

“You are the last person anyone would accuse of memory loss, my love,” Ned told her, kissing her on the forehead. 

“Daddy’s in here!” Bran shouted then as he came sprinting into the room. “Come on, Daddy! Let’s go see the reindeer on the roof!” 

“All right, little man,” Ned said with a smile. I’ll come out with you for a few minutes, but then you kids can stay out and play while I come in and help your mom, okay?” 

“Okay. Come on!” He started tugging on Ned’s arm, and Catelyn laughed as her husband looked helplessly at her. “Go on,” she said. “Show off your rooftop masterpiece!” 

She heard the kids’ excited voices in the entryway and walked over to make certain Rickon was truly napping before leaving the great room. Before she could go retrieve her purchases from the entryway, however, Sansa’s voice stopped her. “Mom?” 

“Hello, sweet girl! Aren’t you going outside with the others?” 

“Yes. But I wanted to ask you a question first.” 

“All right.” 

“Does Daddy like silly things?” 

“What?” 

“Well, Daddy likes . . . the news, and those paintings of dark, snowy places in his office, and nice dressy ties without any pictures of dogs or stuff on them.” 

“You’re making your father sound awfully boring, Sansa.” 

“He’s not, though!” Sansa cried. “He likes to play with us. And he laughs at silly stuff. But . . . nobody ever gets Daddy silly presents. It just doesn’t seem . . . right.” 

“What’s this about, sweetling?” Catelyn said, sitting down on the sofa and motioning Sansa to join her. 

“Well, Bran picked out a present for Daddy. And Uncle Benjen helped him. And I just saw it today, and it seems . . . “ 

“Silly?” Catelyn asked gently. 

Sansa nodded. “I mean, maybe we were stupid for letting Bran pick out Daddy’s present, but he’s a boy. Even if he is only four. And Arya and I couldn’t think of anything except ties, and he only likes the boring kind, and we got him that last year.” 

“As I recall, I helped pick out the tie you got him last year, and I assure you it wasn’t boring. He still wears it all the time. He loves it.” 

“Yeah. That’s what I mean. I know he likes that kind of stuff, and I’m afraid . . .” 

“Sansa, whatever Bran got your father, he’ll love it. Because it’s from his children. But if you and Arya don’t want to share the gift with him, I’ll take you shopping. I’m sorry I haven’t done it already. I’m afraid time has gotten away from me this year, but we can go tomorrow.” 

Sansa shook her head. “No. That’s not fair. Because we picked out your gift, and we’re sharing it with Bran. So the deal is he shares the gift he picked out for Dad with us. And . . . well, you know Dad better than anybody, right?” 

“I like to thinks so,” Catelyn replied. 

“Then it should be okay. Bran says you told him how much Dad would like this present.” 

“I did what? Sansa, I don’t even know what it is!” 

“Of course not, Mom! It’s a secret! I mean Bran told us all about how he found . . . how he found out Daddy would like this from you. It was a long time ago. You probably forgot all about it. But Bran is really sure about it. And Daddy does like to play with us so . . .” Sansa shrugged. “I guess it’s a good present.” 

Catelyn’s brain immediately began attempting to recall any discussion with Bran about Christmas presents for Ned and came up blank. She smiled at Sansa. “As I said, my sweet girl, your father will love his gift simply because it’s from the three of you.” 

“And Rickon,” Sansa said quickly. “We’re putting his name on the presents because even though he’s just a baby, he still counts. And _we_ know how to share.” 

Catelyn chose to ignore the not-so-subtle dig at Robb. “And your father will love that you include your baby brother as well.” 

Sansa grinned. “Okay, Mom! I’m going outside now!” 

As she turned, Catelyn thought of something and stopped her. “Did Benjen help you with a gift for me as well?” 

“Oh, no!” Sansa giggled. “Uncle Ben’s great, but he’s no good at all at shopping for girl stuff. Uncle Edmure took me and Arya shopping. The day he took us skating.” 

“My brother picked out my Christmas gift from you?” Catelyn asked in disbelief. 

Sansa laughed again. “No! We knew exactly what you needed for Christmas. Uncle Edmure’s just better at going to stores. He doesn’t get all bored about shopping like Uncle Benjen does. And when we told him what we wanted to get you, he said it was brilliant and that you’d be really proud of how we thought of it. Well . . . Arya thought of it, really, but as soon as she told me, I knew it was the best gift ever. And the whole time we were shopping, Uncle Edmure kept smiling and saying how this would be the best Christmas ever.” 

“So . . . how did you and Arya come up this brilliant gift, Sansa?” Catelyn asked slowly. Her daughter’s enthusiasm warmed her heart, but she knew her brother well. _The best Christmas ever?_ Edmure was given to hyperbole at times, but something about this seemed suspicious. 

“I’m not telling you yet,” Sansa said emphatically. “It’s all part of your Christmas surprise. But it’s way better than the scarf we got you last year. Even if Daddy did say the scarf matched your eyes. It’s gonna be the best gift anybody gets you!” Sansa grinned again, and then fled from the room as if she were afraid she’d say too much if she stayed. 

Catelyn stood there looking after her for several moments wondering what on earth her younger children had gotten her and Ned for Christmas. She had a very strong feeling that these particular mystery gifts would not be coffee mugs proclaiming “World’s Greatest Mom” or “World’s Coolest Dad”. 


	4. Chapter 4

Benjen Stark laughed out loud as he got out of his father’s car and looked up at the reindeer on his brother’s roof.

“I told you,” his father said gruffly as he shut the driver’s side door.

“I know. It’s just . . . Ned really can’t tell them no to anything, can he?”

Rickard Stark raised an eyebrow. “And when’s the last time you denied a request from one of Ned’s little cherubs?”

Benjen shrugged. “That’s different. I’m an uncle. An uncle’s supposed to spoil them. A father’s supposed to set rules and expectations and inspire a healthy sense of fear about what happens when those aren’t met.” He spoke in fair imitiation of Rickard Stark’s deep voice and then grinned at his father.

“You only think you’re funny, Benjen,” his father told him as he walked toward the front door.

Benjen shook his head and followed after him. He’d been teasing his father, but he’d spoken truthfully enough about Rickard. He wouldn’t have dreamed of teasing his dad when he was a kid. Rickard Stark had never been unfair, but he’d been very strict and demanding without any grey areas in his code of right and wrong. He seemed convinced the world was a cold, hard place and he was determined to make his children strong enough to survive it. Brandon had once told him that Dad hadn’t been like that before Mom died, but Benjen didn’t remember their mother at all or remember Dad being any other way. He’d watched Brandon forever swing back and forth between being exactly Dad and then completely opposite, watched Ned just quietly do his best to live up to everything Dad expected, and watched Lyanna engage in open rebellion pretty much as soon as puberty hit. He’d opted for just getting along with everybody and staying under Dad’s radar any time he decided to do something the man wouldn’t like. That had worked pretty well for him. Then Ned married Cat and started having kids, and Dad somehow started to mellow out. He hadn’t become a big softie or anything, and he still had no reservations about expressing disapproval to his kids, but he’d definitely loosened up and started smiling more. Just one more reason for Ben to love his nieces and nephews.

His father didn’t even get to knock on the door before it opened and Bran launched himself at them shouting “Merry Christmas!” at the top of his lungs. He threw his little arms around Rickard first, and then jumped up into Benjen’s outstretched arms.

“Merry Christmas, Monkey!” he said. “So we’re the first ones here, huh?”

“Nope. Jon and Aunt Lyanna are already here.”

“I don’t see Lyanna’s car,” Rickard said.

“Uncle Robert drove them, I think,” Bran said, now wiggling to get down. “Come see all the stuff Santa brought us!” 

Ben looked at his father over the child’s head at the mention of ‘Uncle Robert’ and saw the slight frown on Rickard’s face as the two men allowed Bran to pull them into the house.

“Granddad and Uncle Ben are here!” Bran shouted as they entered, and Benjen freed his hand from his nephew’s so he could turn and shut the door behind them. He turned back to see Robb and Jon coming into the entryway with cookies in hand.

“Catelyn know you juvenile delinquents are pilfering cookies before dinner?” his father asked.

Jon looked down, but Robb laughed. “Mom gave them to us, Granddad. We were starving, and she said we could have one each.”

“I see more than one each,” Rickard said, raising his eyebrow.

“One each for all of us,” Robb clarified, not intimidated at all by his grandfather. “You and Uncle Ben can go get one if you want. She’ll have to say yes since she gave them to us. Oh . . . here’s yours, Bran.” 

“Sweet!” Bran exclaimed as he reached out for it. “Now come downstairs and see all our stuff, Uncle Ben! You too, Granddad!”

“We should probably say hello to your parents first,” Rickard told the little boy who was already stuffing the cookie into his mouth with one hand and reaching out to grab his hand with the other.

“Go on downstairs, Monkey,” Ben told him. “I promise we’ll be right there after we see your mom and dad.”

“Dad’s not here,” Robb volunteered. “Something’s wrong with the icemaker so Mom sent him and Uncle Robert to get a bag of ice at the gas station.”

Well, that explained the absence of Baratheon’s car out front even if it didn’t explain what he was doing here.

“Robert Baratheon came here to Christmas dinner with you and your mother, Jon?” Rickard asked, and Benjen suppressed the urge to groan. His father really had no tact.

“Um . . . yeah,” Jon said. He was older than Robb by a couple months, but much less outgoing. He was every bit as noisy as all of Ned and Cat’s kids when he was relaxed and comfortable, but he was rarely completely comfortable around his grandfather—a byproduct of Rickard and Lyanna’s somewhat rocky relationship. 

“Why . . .” Rickard began.

“Why don’t you two find the girls and give them their cookies before you’re tempted to eat them yourselves?” Benjen interrupted. “And I think I will go get a cookie from Cat for myself. Is your mom in the kitchen with your aunt, Jon?”

“Yes. Rickon woke up and she’s trying to keep him happy so Aunt Cat can get all the food ready.”

Benjen laughed at that. Lyanna would probably prefer holding fussy baby to actually preparing food, but only slightly. “I’ll go rescue her,” he told Jon with a wink and was rewarded with the first smile he’d seen on his nephew’s face. “Now, you two get back to your seven thousand new Xbox games or whatever. And Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Ben! Merry Christmas, Granddad!” both boys responded before heading toward the basement.

“Why would Lyanna bring Robert Baratheon to a family Christmas dinner?” Rickard grumbled after the boys had gone.

“Dad, it’s Christmas. Let it go, please.”

“Yes, it’s Christmas. A day for family. Lyanna is a grown woman who can live her life as she chooses, but she should respect family time.”

“Dad. Robert practically is family where Ned’s concerned. His kids have called him Uncle Robert all their lives. Maybe Ned invited him! You know this is the first Christmas since his divorce. Cersei probably has their kids.”

“Ending her relationship with that drunken womanizer is possibly the only smart decision your sister ever made when it comes to men. Getting tangled up with him again after all these years would be disastrous. And she really should consider Jon. Her son has to be her priority.”

Benjen was tempted to remind his father that he’s the one who’d encouraged Lyanna to date Robert in the first place all those years ago, but he didn’t want to get him any more irritated. Instead, he chose to address the last part of his father’s statement because his sister deserved his defense on that. “Jon has always been Lyanna’s priority. Whether you agree with all her choices or not, Dad, you know Jon’s the most important thing in the world to her.”

His father was silent a moment before giving a small nod of acknowledgement.

Ben smiled at him. “Come on, Dad. You know you want one of Cat’s sugar cookies.”

They entered the kitchen to find Catelyn with her back to them, her long hair pulled back in sort of a loose ponytail as she was slicing something on the counter. Lyanna stood beside the kitchen table bouncing up and down slightly with the youngest Stark in her arms. “Oh look, Rickon, it’s your Uncle Ben!” she said in a bright voice when she saw them. She held the baby out toward him. “He’s been asking for you.”

“He can’t talk,” Benjen laughed as he accepted his little nephew who he noted was awake, but seemingly content.

“Merry Christmas, you two!” Catelyn said brightly turning around and coming over to kiss both of them on the cheek without putting down the rather terrifying looking knife she was holding.

“Don’t stab me, Cat. I’ll drop your kid,” Benjen said, pretending to cower.

His sister-in-law laughed, and his sister rolled her eyes as she sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. As Ben sat down beside her, Lyanna quickly said, “Nope. You’re not allowed to sit.”

“Who says?” Ben asked her, sticking out his tongue like a little kid. Then Rickon began to wail.

“He does,” Lyanna said with grin. “So stand back up before we all go deaf.”

“Are you hungry, little guy?” Ben said to the now crying baby in his arms. 

“Stand up, Ben,” Lyanna insisted.

He sighed, but stood back up just to shut her up. Almost instantly, Rickon stopped crying, and Lyanna smirked. “Told you. He doesn’t like it when you sit down. Your turn to stand there with him for awhile.”

“If you can give me ten minutes, Benjen, I can finish this up and take him upstairs for a quick snack and hopefully a good nap before dinner,” Catelyn said.

“No problem, Cat. Will you pay me with a cookie?”

She laughed and motioned toward the sugar cookies sitting on a tray. “Only one. If I give you any more, the boys will cry foul. You can have one, too, Rickard.”

As Benjen was bouncing Rickon up and down, his father got cookies for both of them and then took a seat at the table. “Bran seemed pretty excited about his Christmas haul,” Rickard said. “What time did you and Ned get to bed last night?”

“Early. We didn’t want to risk Santa having to skip our house,” Catelyn said in loud, cheerful voice while giving Rickard a warning look.

“They’re all in the basement,” Benjen assured her.

“You can never trust them to stay put though,” Catelyn said. Then looking back to Rickard, she said quietly, “Early. As in very early this morning. But not too long past midnight this time.” She smiled. “We’ve developed a pretty good system over the years.”

“And what time did the cherubs wake you?”

“A little after six, I think. It wasn’t too terrible. Lyanna, do you remember the year you and Jon stayed here on Christmas Eve and the two boys got us all up at four-thirty?”

“God yes! That may be the closest I’ve ever come to actually murdering my child.” 

Everyone laughed for a moment, and then Rickard looked at his daughter. “So, Bran tells us you came here with Robert Baratheon?”

Benjen could practically see Lyanna putting a wall around herself before she answered. “No. Robert came with me. As my guest. We came in his car because there’s snow in the forecast this evening and he has four wheel drive. Any other questions, Dad?”

“It was just a simple question, Lyanna. There’s no need to get defensive.”

“I’m not being defensive. I simply answered your simple question.”

“The more the merrier!” Catelyn interjected brightly as she put plastic wrap over whatever she’d been working on at the counter. “There’s plenty of food, and Robert’s already done me the brilliant favor of keeping Ned out of my kitchen so I can actually concentrate on cooking. Speaking of those two, they’re out buying ice. At least I hope they’re able to buy it. I’m pretty sure the Speedway down by the interstate will be open today, but if they’re closed or out of ice, I’m afraid we’ll have a very limited supply. Our icemaker decided to go kaput. I managed to dig up 2 old ice cube trays that probably haven’t been used since we bought this house, but those won’t get us very far.”

“It’ll be fine, Cat. Ice or no ice. But I’m pretty sure that Speedway will have it,” Benjen said. 

“Well, I intend to drink wine, so I’ll donate my ration of ice cubes to whomever needs it,” Lyanna said heartily.

Catelyn smiled at them gratefully and turned to the sink to wash her hands. Then she took Rickon from Benjen and headed upstairs. Benjen and Rickard went downstairs to be greeted gleefully by multiple small people all eager to show off their Christmas loot. Lyanna said she’d already braved the pandemonium in the basement volunteered to stay upstairs and listen for the door. 

Rickard didn’t last too long amid the children’s chaos, but he did allow Robb and Jon talk him into attempting to play their new football game on the Xbox. Listening to his nephews give instruction to their grandfather on how to use the controller (Robb with more enthusiasm, but Jon with infinitely more patience) and then hearing his father actually shout out loud in triumph when he managed to get his virtual player to finally catch a pass was wildly entertaining, and Ben wished Edmure were there. Maybe if they told Hoster and Brynden that Rickard had played, they could get one of them to try it. After Rickard went back upstairs, Ben played Xbox briefly with the big boys, had a small Nerf gun war with Arya and Bran and listened to Sansa perform three songs with her new karaoke machine.

Thinking that other people should be arriving by now, Benjen then went back upstairs to discover his father, Ned, Cat, Lyanna, Robert Baratheon, and his brother Brandon all seated in the great room. “Hey!” he greeted them. “When did you get here, Brandon?”

“Just a little bit ago, Want a drink, baby brother? It’s cocktail hour.”

Brandon had what appeared to be bourbon on ice in the glass he held up. Lyanna, Ned, and their father all had red wine, and Catelyn had water. Ben knew she’d have a little wine with dinner, but she restricted her alcohol intake because of Rickon. Surprisingly, Robert Baratheon was also holding what appeared to be a glass of water. Ben shook his head. “I’m good right now. Tully’s supposed to be bringing some of the winter ale from that brewery down near Riverrun. That stuff is good.”

“This stuff is good,” Brandon pronounced and then tipped up his glass and drank it all down.

“Brandon. Don’t behave like a fool,” Rickard admonished.

“Dad,” Brandon said with a grin. “It’s Christmas. Lighten up.”

“Brandon, go on and finish telling us about the bike,” Catelyn said hurriedly. “I’m sure Ben will want to hear about it, too.”

“Bike?” Benjen asked.

“My new Harley,” Brandon said with a grin that momentarily made him look about sixteen. “I bought myself a Christmas present this year.”

Brandon had wanted a Harley for as long as Benjen could remember. Their father had always refused to buy him one when he was younger, and then Barbrey had been adamantly opposed to him buying one himself as she was convinced she’d kill himself on a motorcycle. Ben couldn’t imagine Cat was remotely interested in listening to Brandon wax poetic about horsepower and acceleration speeds but she was smart enough to know letting Dad and Brandon start in on each other was a bad plan. “Did you ride it here?” he asked his brother.

“Are you kidding? It’s supposed to snow a ton. My baby isn’t coming out in a blizzard. I’ve waited years for this beauty and I intend to take good care of her,” Brandon said as he fixed himself another drink.

Rickard made a sort of derisive sound deep in his throat, and Brandon wheeled around to face him.

“Dad,” he said. “I’m going to say this once, and then I’m not talking about it again. We both know my marriage is over. I didn’t quit. I never left my wife. I never wanted to be married in the first place, but I manned up and did what I was supposed to do, and whether you believe me or not, I tried to make it work. I’m not saying I tried all the time or even that I tried as hard as I should have, but I never would have divorced her. She could be Mrs. Brandon Stark forever if she wanted. I owe her that. But she’s decided she wants out, and I’m sure as hell not going to try to force her to stay. I will make certain my kids have everything they ever need, and don’t you worry about Barbrey, either. I’m sure she’ll take me for a fortune, and she probably deserves it. But I’m not going to pretend to broken up about the end of a marriage that’s been dead a long damn time. So you can spend today judging me for my failures as a husband, father, and human being or you can try to be just a little bit happy that I’m actually happy about something this Christmas, even if it’s just a goddamn motorcycle. Either way I’m here to enjoy Christmas with my family, and that’s I intend to do.” He raised his bourbon glass in a manner that could be interpreted as either a toast or a challenge. 

“That’s what we’re all here to do,” Ned put in quickly, raising his wine glass. “We may be messy, but we’re family. And Cat and I are glad to have all of us together here today.”

Everyone else holding glasses lifted them up in response--even Rickard after a moment’s hesitation--and Benjen wondered if his brother and sister-in-law ever got tired of being the perpetual peacemakers. 

“Here! Here! Wise words from the only member of the family that never does anything remotely messy!” Lyanna called out before clinking her glass with Robert’s who guffawed at the remark.

“Ned and Cat couldn’t shock Dad if they tried,” Brandon agreed, grinning again. “They just don’t have it in them. Hell, even little Ben got caught with that girl after his high school graduation. Do you remember the look on Dad’s face when we heard all that racket in rec room at three o’clock in the morning and walked in on them both completely naked, drunk off their asses, and going at it on the pool table?”

“Hey!” Benjen protested, feeling his cheeks get hot. “Leave me out of this, please.”

Lyanna was laughing so hard at the memory, she had tears rolling down her cheeks. “You . . . you . . . jumped up and then crouched down behind the pool table like we wouldn’t realize what we’d seen and started sputtering about how you were just playing pool.” 

At that, Robert Baratheon, who must have been the only human remotely close to the Starks who’d never heard this story began wheezing with laughter, and Ben just shook his head. He’d learned to sort of see the humor in the story himself over the years. Of course, he thanked God that his obnoxious siblings didn’t know that was actually the night he’d lost his virginity. If Brandon and Lyanna realized they’d interrupted that particular moment in his life, they’d really never let him hear the end of it.

“This is hardly appropriate conversation with the children right downstairs,” Rickard said, but unlike the night of the actual event when Ben had feared for his very life, there was amusement behind his father’s stern expression. Everyone did settle down a bit at his words however.

“Oh dear god, that was one of the funniest damned things I’ve ever seen,” Brandon said, shaking his head. “At least you’ve got Ned, Dad. No one’s ever caught him in flagrante delicto. Sometimes I wonder where all those kids come from!”

“Brandon, that’s really . . .” Ned started to say, but Robert interrupted.

“I think you’re selling your brother short,” he said, getting up to refill his own glass, and Benjen marveled to see that he was actually reaching for the water pitcher rather than any of the available wine and liquor bottles. “I walked in on Ned and Cat once.”

“No!” Lyanna protested in disbelief, leaning toward him to listen. “Do tell!”

“Robert . . .” Ned started. “Whatever you’re about to say . . .”

“Oh, hush, Ned,” Robert said. “It’s only fair that you get your turn. Anyway, it was at some Stark Corporation function. I left the main party room and was walking down this hallway when I heard giggling. You know I’m a sucker for feminine giggles so I followed the sound. And sure enough, in a little side room, I saw the back of a woman with long red hair. I crept up for a closer look, and sure enough, it was Cat. And Ned was with her. And the two of them were . . .” He paused for dramatic effect. “Holding hands!”

Everyone collapsed into laughter except for Catelyn who rolled her eyes and shook her head and Ned who glowered at his best friend.

“Don’t be too scandalized, though,” Robert continued. “They had been married at least five years by then so . . .”

“Robert, you really aren’t as funny as you think,” Catelyn said, sounding every bit as prim and proper as Robert’s tale made her and Ned out to be.

At least Robert’s tale had succeeded in completely removing all seriousness from the conversation. As the others continued to chat, Ben moved to the little bar area and to check out Ned’s abysmal selection of beer and hoped that Edmure Tully would get there soon. He wandered over to the tree and realized that he hadn’t brought any of the presents in from his father’s car. As he turned to tell his dad he was going to run out and get them, he spotted one little present rather inexpertly wrapped in the Paw Patrol paper Bran had asked for specifically, and he couldn’t keep from laughing out loud as he thought about Robert’s joke and what he knew was in that present.

“What’s so funny over there, Baby Bro?” Brandon called out.

“Uh . . . nothing,” Ben stammered, probably sounding almost as idiotic as he had that infamous night in Winterfell’s rec room. “I just . . . It’s just great to have everybody together again. I can’t wait until the Tullys show up. I have a feeling this is going to be a Christmas to remember!” He knew he was grinning stupidly as they all stared at him, but he couldn’t stop. “Yeah, so, I’m just gonna go bring the presents in, Dad!” he added, and then quickly headed out toward the front door, willing Edmure Tully to arrive quickly so that he could tell Robert’s story to the one person other than himself who knew just how damn funny it was going to be by the end of today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The Tully's arrive, and everyone sits down to dinner.


	5. Chapter 5

“Lysa, how many times do I need to say it? There is no oyster in the dressing. There are no shellfish of any kind in any dish I’m serving.” Catelyn’s frustration with her sister was evident in spite of her obvious efforts to keep her voice even, and Ned found himself wanting very much to tell his sister-in-law to just shut up. As that wouldn’t help anything, however, he tried to speak as calmly as his wife.

“Lysa, we’ve never served anything with shellfish when young Robert’s here. We know he’s allergic. You can rest assured that he can safely eat every bite of food in this house.”

Lysa narrowed her eyes at him as if he were some sort of suspicious character not to be trusted. It never failed to amaze Ned that a woman who in many ways looked a great deal like his wife could be so utterly unappealing to him, but Lysa Tully Arryn was an exceedingly irritating woman. After eyeing him for what seemed an inordinately long time, she pursed her lips and said rather accusingly. “The last time we attended a Stark Christmas dinner, oyster dressing was served.”

“For the love of God, Lysa,” Catelyn said, looking heavenward as if praying for patience, “That was at Winterfell, not here, and it was two years ago. Barbrey made the dressing, and she didn’t know about Robin’s shellfish allergy. He’d only been diagnosed with it . . . what? . . . three months before that Christmas? He wasn’t even three years old and barely ate any of the food that day. No one gave him any of the oyster dressing because I warned them all against it. He was fine!”

“Well, I wasn’t fine! How could I be sure there wasn’t any cross contamination? I didn’t know what foods had touched what other foods. I was a nervous wreck that whole day. I gave him some Benadryl after dinner just in case.”

“That explains why he slept through the present opening that year,” Ned muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Lysa demanded, turning from Catelyn to him.

“Nothing,” Catelyn said quickly. “Look, Lysa. Barbrey isn’t here. I am the only person who cooked anything that’s being served today. Nobody else. I give you my word that no shellfish is in any of it. There’s nothing else I can say. Either let your son eat or let him go hungry, but please stop asking me the same questions over and over so that I can get dinner served, and everyone who isn’t afraid of my food can eat it.”

“Well!” Lysa said huffily. “I’m only looking out for my child’s welfare, Cat. You don’t have to be rude to me.” She took a deep, long-suffering breath. “Can I help you with anything?”

If Catelyn bit her lip any harder, Ned feared it might bleed, but then she managed a smile at her sister and said, “Help me check all these dishes over here. Anything that needs warming up, we can put in the oven or the microwave.”

“All right. Are you sure Sweetrobin’s all right down in the basement? Your children won’t be too rough with him, will they? He’s much more delicate than your wild boys.”

Ned stifled a laugh. Young Robert Arryn certainly did have some legitimate medical issues. He had epilepsy which had been difficult to control for a long time, but he’d had very few seizures since the doctors had put him on this newest medication about six months ago. Jon Arryn was very encouraged about his son’s condition since then. The boy also had the shellfish allergy along with what Lysa referred to as “sensitivities” to any number of things. Ned was personally convinced that most of these “sensitivities” were more products of Lysa’s paranoia than anything else. And he was frightfully small for his age. He was several months older than Bran but looked at least a year younger. But in spite of his medical problems, the child had practically leapt into the house upon the Arryns’ arrival, shouting for Bran and gleefully accepting Benjen’s offer to take him down to the basement to join the other kids. Lysa had protested, of course, but Jon had given his permission and Benjen, bless him, hadn’t waited around to listen to Lysa’s protests, putting young Robert on his back and trotting off toward the basement. 

“He’ll be fine, Lysa,” Catelyn said wearily. “He’s played in my basement with my kids every time he’s been here and has always managed to emerge uninjured.” She handed her sister a covered dish. “Here. Put this one in the oven. It doesn’t microwave well.”

As Lysa took the dish and walked to the oven, Ned put his hands on his wife’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Anything I can do to help, my love?”

She leaned back into his touch. “Make my father, uncle, and brother appear in time to eat?” She sighed and turned around to face him. “I hate starting without them, but they’re now an hour late and if we don’t at least get the food on the table, I’m afraid it’ll get too late before we get to presents and the kids will start to get cranky. They have been up since six, you know. They’ll start to wear down eventually regardless of how excited they are. And we’ve already waited too long for Rickon. He’s going to wake up any minute and then I’ll have to . . .”

“Let me feed him. That’s all you’ll have to do, Cat. That’s what the bottles are for. I know you prefer to feed him yourself, but you can’t do everything.” He smiled and kissed her briefly on the forehead. “Well, you can do everything. But even you can’t do everything all at once. Let me help you.”

“I love you,” she said, putting her arms around his waist and leaning against him.

“Careful, Cat. If Robert walks into the kitchen now, we’ll have him telling more salacious stories about the two of us.”

She laughed, and it made him happy to hear it. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be coming in here,” she said after a moment. “Your sister was pretty much sitting in his lap when I last walked into the great room.”

Ned sighed. He had no idea what was up with Robert and Lyanna. He hadn’t known they were even in contact with each other, and then Robert simply showed up on their doorstep with Lyanna and Jon, and their behavior so far certainly gave the impression today wasn’t the first time they’d spent time together recently. Truthfully, Ned had enjoyed having Robert here today. Last week he’d gone to lunch with him to celebrate his friend’s one month of sobriety milestone. Robert had taken a long hard look at himself and his life after the colossal blow up of his marriage and hadn’t liked what he’d seen. Truthfully, Ned hadn’t liked the man Robert had been for the past several years either, and he liked having his old friend back. Yet, Robert hadn’t said a word to him about Lyanna, and he was honestly a bit hurt and angry that the two of them had apparently been carrying on in secret. He was also worried. Neither his sister nor his friend were known for making the world’s greatest decisions when it came to relationships with the opposite sex, and one month without alcohol didn’t make Robert a new person any more than Lyanna’s repeated insistence that she was now perfectly fine with Rhaegar Targaryen developing a relationship with Jon made it true. And the two of them had enough toxic history together without all the rest of it. 

“Robert and Lyanna,” Lysa now said, apparently deciding to join the conversation. “How long has that been going on?”

“I have no idea,” Ned replied.

Lysa gave him look of frank disbelief. 

“Honestly, Lysa,” Catelyn told her. “As far as we know, it’s been going since earlier today when they appeared together at our front door.”

“You really didn’t know he was coming?” Lysa almost squealed. She did enjoy a bit of good gossip. “That’s pretty bold of them. Just showing up like that.” She turned to Ned. “But surely you knew something. I mean, that sister of yours has more secrets than anyone should, but Robert Baratheon tells you everything. What’s he said about the two of them?”

“Nothing, Lysa. Robert hasn’t said a word about Lyanna to me.” It was the truth, but it was plain that Lysa didn’t believe him. Sighing, Ned waited for her inevitable next question when the doorbell rang out.

“Thank God, they’re here,” Catelyn exclaimed.

Ned smiled at her. “Well, you did tell me you wanted them to appear. I do try to oblige you, my love.”

She laughed and kissed him quickly on the cheek before walking past him toward the front door. Ned grinned at Lysa and then followed his wife out of the kitchen. He arrived at the front door to see that Lyanna had opened it to reveal Catelyn’s uncle almost completely obscured from view by a stack of presents in his arms. 

“Uncle Brynden!” Cat cried out, rushing toward him. “Let me help you.” She started to reach for the topmost gifts, but Ned touched her arm. “Let me,” he said, reaching to take the entire stack. “I’ll take the presents and then you can give out hugs.” 

Catelyn laughed, and Brynden’s voice from behind the gifts replied, “Thanks, Stark.”

Transfer of presents accomplished, Ned turned in his sister’s general direction and said, “Lead me to the tree, Lya. I can’t actually see where I’m going.”

Behind him, he heard Brynden Tully say, “Come here, Little Cat,” followed immediately by a cry of “Merry Christmas, Uncle Brynden!” which he knew was uttered as Catelyn threw herself into her uncle’s arms. Somehow, Brynden always managed to bring out the excited little girl inside Cat that always put Ned in mind of Arya regardless of the fact that his younger daughter and wife looked nothing alike. He smiled and then began following the sound of Lyanna’s voice as she gave him directions toward the great room. He got the presents deposited and returned to the door just in time to see Edmure Tully helping his father through the doorway with his walker. Brynden was now nowhere to be seen.

“Daddy,” Catelyn said, carefully maneuvering around the walker to kiss her father gently on the cheek.

“I won’t break, Little Cat,” Hoster Tully said in irritation. “I’m only using this contraption because your brother was convinced I needed more ‘stability’ outside if it gets icy tonight. I’ve got my cane to use in the house, child.” As if to prove his words, the stubborn man pushed the walker away from him and turned to hug his daughter. Then he turned toward the open door and shouted “Bryn! Get that cane while you’re out there, will you?”

Edmure Tully, who’d been waiting patiently for Hoster to greet Cat, said, “Dad, Uncle Brynden can’t carry everything! If you don’t want to use the walker, let Cat and Ned help you to sit down and I’ll go out and help Uncle B get the cane and the rest of the presents.” He then grabbed Cat and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Cat.” Then with a quick nod and ‘Merry Christmas’ to Ned, he ran back outside presumably to assist his uncle.

“Here, Daddy,” Catelyn said, moving the walker completely out of the way. “Hold on to my arm here and hold onto Ned’s on the other side.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Hoster protested.

“I know that,” Catelyn said soothingly. “But you are the only one here who just had a major joint completely replaced. Now, come on.”

With no further protest, Hoster let the two of them support him as he walked to the great room to be greeted by Brandon, Lyanna, Robert, and Jon Arryn. 

“Where’s Lysa?” he asked. “And where are the babies?”

“Lysa’s in the kitchen,” Catelyn told him. “I’ll send her out. The kids are in the basement. It’s time for them to come up and eat soon, but let’s get you seated before we call them up or they’re likely to tackle you.”

With Ned’s assistance, she eased her father into the chair they’d found was easiest for him to get in and out of on his only previous visit to their house since his surgery. Just as Brynden and Edmure arrived in the greatroom bearing a cane for Hoster, more presents to put under the tree, and what appeared to be a case of beer; a loud wail emanated from upstairs.

“Rickon’s awake,” Lyanna said with a grin. “I’d know that sound anywhere.”

“I’ll get him,” Ned said quickly, laying a hand on Catelyn’s arm. “You take a few moments to talk to your family and then do whatever you need to do in the kitchen. If he’s starving, I’ll get him a bottle.”

He knew she felt a bit overwhelmed when she agreed to the bottle without any protest.

“Where’s Ben?” he heard Edmure asking after he excused himself to go and retrieve his youngest son. “I’ve got his Winter Ale.”

“Basement!” Ned called over his shoulder. “Where the wild things are!”

He heard Edmure’s laughter above all the others as he headed up the stairs. Edmure laughed easily, a trait he shared with Robb. Sometimes, Ned thought Robb took far more after Catelyn’s brother than himself, but she’d laugh at him and tell him he wasn’t looking closely enough. She maintained Robb had all the best qualities of himself and Edmure, and that he couldn’t see himself simply because it’s easier for everyone to recognize other people’s traits than their own. Ned supposed she was right because she could never seem to see any of her own traits in Arya and Ned could give her a very long list of those.

Rickon was quite worked up when he got to him, and it took him a bit to settle him. He didn’t stay very settled though. He’d napped a good long time, and he was definitely hungry so Ned carried him downstairs. When he arrived in the great room, he saw every adult present except Catelyn. Benjen had apparently been rescued from the basement and was standing by the Christmas tree drinking beer with Edmure Tully. Both of them seemed to find something hysterically funny about the presents beneath it, but Ned didn’t have time to ponder what it could be. He walked to directly to Lyanna who did, in fact, have her legs resting across Robert’s lap. She began shaking her head at Ned as she looked at the crying baby in his arms.

“I’ve already done baby duty today, Ned. Pick another sucker.”

“Just until I can get a bottle warmed up for him, Lya. If I take him in the kitchen, he’ll see Cat and want her instead of the bottle. And she’s got enough to do at the moment.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ned saw Brynden Tully approaching him with a smile, but before the older man could reach out for Rickon, Robert Baratheon said, “Give the tyke to me, Ned.”

Ned and Lyanna both stared at Robert with identical expressions of shock, and Robert just laughed. “I won’t drop him,” he said. “I have held babies before. Give him here.” With that, he patted Lyanna’s legs, raised them up off his lap, and stood up to reach for Rickon.

“I can take him if you’d like,” Brynden said softly from beside Ned, and Ned was very tempted to hand his son to the great uncle who’d always been wonderful with all the kids. But Robert was looking at him with a “Please let me do this for you” look in his eyes, and Ned passed him his son. Rickon was already screaming so it wasn’t as if Robert could make him any unhappier.

“Thanks,” he said. “Why don’t you take him into my office so everyone in here can still hear each other speak and close the door so . . .”

“So Cat doesn’t hear him and think her kid and I both need rescued. Yeah, yeah, I got it. Go get his bottle.”

Ned smiled gratefully at his friend’s retreating back as Robert was already headed for the office before he finished speaking. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Lyanna said. “I didn’t think Robert loved even you enough to voluntarily hold a screaming baby.”

Ned simply looked at her and said, “Well, since temporarily lost your footrest, why don’t you come in the kitchen with me and see if Catelyn can use any help.”

“Why don’t you ask her sister to do it?”

Ned looked over to where Lysa Arryn was in conversation with Hoster Tully, Rickard, and her husband. “Because her father just got here. Let her have some time with him.” He dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. “And because she was irritating the hell out of Cat when she was in there.”

“Yeah, well, she has that effect on most people.” Before Ned could speak, she added, “And don’t bother reminding me that I can get on people’s nerves, too. I only do it to amuse myself. I don’t think she can help doing it. But fine. I’ll go see if Cat needs anything, and I promise to be on my very best, least irritating behavior.”

Catelyn was actually quite grateful for Lyanna’s offer of help. She’d obviously heard Rickon crying because a bottle of breast milk was already sitting in hot water to warm. She pulled it out and dripped some milk on her wrist before handing the bottle to Ned reluctantly. “Go feed my baby,” she sighed.

“He’s my baby, too,” he reminded her with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got this.”

“I know you do. If he falls back to sleep, put him down in the bassinet in the great room. If he stays awake, try putting him in the little carrier. I think I put it in the laundry room just to get it out of the way. But we can bring that into the dining room with us, and with luck he’ll be content enough just watching and listening to everything once his belly’s full.”

“Will do.”

Ned left his wife and sister to join Robert and the still screaming Rickon in his office. The screaming stopped instantaneously, of course, when he put the bottle to the child’s lips.

“That always amazed me,” Robert said, watching Rickon suck on the bottle. “How something so simple can take a baby from miserable rage to complete happiness within seconds.”

Ned laughed. “Well, the bottle doesn’t always work this well. He prefers his mother. That’s why I wasn’t about to take him into the kitchen.”

“Well, do you blame him, Ned? What would you rather suck on? A piece of rubber or Cat’s perfect . . .”

“Robert! Don’t finish that sentence. I know everything’s about sex for you, but I really don’t want to listen to you sexualize my infant son’s feeding habits or hear your commentary on my wife’s breasts.”

Robert laughed, of course. “Ah, Ned, it’s so easy to get you riled up. I humbly apologize for any inadvertent offense on my part. I meant no insult to your baby or your wife.”

Ned couldn’t help laughing himself then. “Apology accepted.”

“She does have great tits, though.”

“Robert!” Ned exclaimed, but he couldn’t help laughing once more.

When the laughter stopped, Robert looked at him very seriously. “So . . . do you want to ask me? About Lyanna?”

“What you and Lyanna do is your own business, Robert. You’re both adults.”

“But it bothers you. Us showing up here together. I can see that it does. Your old stone face doesn’t fool me, Neddy Boy.”

Ned sighed. “I was surprised. And I’ll admit that some sort of advance notice—a phone call, perhaps?—might have been nice.”

“That’s what I told her. She said it was better this way. No big conversations beforehand or prejudgments or any of that mess. And she figured you and Cat would keep happy faces on Christmas even if it killed you, so . . .”

“That’s hardly very fair to us, though, is it? Of course, my sister has rather a history of looking out for her own interests first. But you know that.”

“Ned, Lyanna’s a good person! If she didn’t care so damn much about what you think, she wouldn’t . . .”

“I never said she wasn’t a good person, Robert. She’s warm and generous and strong, and I love her. And for all that she pretends to not give a damn about what anyone thinks of her, I know that’s not true. But she does act without thinking, and when she’s under pressure or stress, she tends to lose sight of anyone’s perspective but her own. And when it comes Lya, your perspective has never been particularly objective, my friend.”

“No,” Robert said softly. “No, it hasn’t. And nothing you just said is untrue. I loved her a long time, Ned. I loved Lyanna selfishly and recklessly and stupidly. And when I lost her, I married Cersei selfishly, recklessly, and stupidly without loving her at all. Now, I hate the bitch. I hate her for what she’s done. And I hate myself for what I became while I was with her. I can’t blame that all on Cersei, though. She has her sins to answer for, and I have mine. I’ve come that far with AA, you know. Owning my own sins. Cersei didn’t make me into . . . this. I did. But I can’t quite forgive her for . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t.” The last two word were almost choked out.

“I can’t really blame for you for that,” Ned said softly. “I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“Lyanna can’t forgive Rhaegar, either. She still hates him for all that she’s trying to put a good face on it for Jon’s sake. She’s hoping that Jon will decide on his own to cut him off, but with the money the man’s spending on buying the kid’s affections . . .”

Rhaegar Targaryen was by no means one of Ned’s favorite people. His interest in Jon had waxed and waned over the boy’s life, but during this past year, it had been more consistent than ever before, and not just in monetary gifts. Personally, Ned wouldn’t care if the man dropped off the face of the earth, but Jon would care. And for Jon’s sake, he wished Lyanna could find it in herself to make it just a bit easier for Rhaegar to give more of himself to Jon than his money. Robert wouldn’t want to hear that, though. 

“So the two of you are now bonding over hatred of your exes rather than a rekindling of your old love?” Ned asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. The two of us understand each other. We understand even the parts we don’t like. And that’s not something that’s easy to come by. We’ve only been seeing each other in a . . . romantic way . . . for the past month. And while I won’t deny that the physical attraction is as strong as it ever was, neither of us is in a place to love anybody at the moment. And we’re good with that. It’s just nice to not be alone. And to be understood.”

“Does she understand, Robert? Does she know . . .”

“That my children aren’t mine?” Robert finished, the same pain in his voice as when he’d first told Ned the awful truth that had finally put an end to a marriage marked by infidelity, alcoholism, and abusive behavior on both parts. “Yes,” he said between gritted teeth. “I told her before we started sleeping together. And I told her I hit Cersei in the face when I found out. I told her all of it, Ned. In more detail than I told you.”

As far as Ned knew, Robert, Cersei, her lover, and the attorneys were the only people who knew the truth of the Baratheon children’s paternity other than himself and now Lyanna. Robert and Cersei had agreed it was best for the children that they didn’t know right now although Robert had told Ned he couldn’t imagine lying to them all their lives would be a good thing, either. He struggled now with how to deal the kids. He had never been the most attentive and involved father, but he did love them. Currently, he got them every other weekend and every Wednesday. Their nanny shuttled them between households so that he and Cersei had no contact with each other. He’d told Ned he intended to ask for more time once he had more months of sobriety under his belt, but that he feared if he pushed for too much, Cersei would go back on their agreement and tell the children the truth of their paternity to turn them against him. Ned honestly didn’t what to say to his friend about that impossible situation, so he stuck to the one they were discussing.

“I’m glad you were honest with her, Robert. I hope she can be honest with you, too. She’s not always the most open person—even with herself. I won’t say I’m not worried . . . about both of you. But just . . . try not to hurt each other. You’ve both hurt others and been hurt enough, okay?”

Robert actually laughed again then. “I’d drink to that. If I still drank.”

Ned grinned at him. “And try to keep the PDA down in my house. Seriously, man, is the leg massage in your lap necessary?”

“Have you seen your sister’s legs? You know, Ned, you could do with a little PDA, my uptight friend. Cat’s got very nice legs, too. Maybe you ought to run your hand up her thigh at dinner. Maybe that would keep everybody from wondering if the two of you ever have sex.”

Ned simply looked pointedly at the baby in his arms and then back at his friend.

“More than five times then!” Robert said with a laugh. “Ah, I’m just messing with you. I know how crazy you two are about each other. But I do think maybe you ought to spice things up a bit, my friend. I know you’re incurably monogamous and that’s not a bad thing. But even with the same woman, you can . . . experiment a bit. Do some different things. Maybe even . . .”

“Robert, I am a happily married man. And I am not having this conversation with you.”

“You sure? I could tell you some stories. Maybe get you out of the same old married sex rut.”

“If you’re even thinking of regaling me with tales of your exploits with my sister, you can stop now.”

“You just don’t wanna hear that all your single--or soon-to-be-single in Brandon’s case--siblings are getting more than you!” Robert said with a grin.

“Getting more what?” came an excited voice from the door. “More presents?”

“Nothing, Robb,” Ned said hurriedly. “What do you need, bud?”

“Mom says dinner’s ready when you are. Did you see Grandpa’s cool cane? The part you hold onto is carved like a fish with a great big tail. Uncle Bryn called it ossen . . . osten . . . ostentatious, but Grandpa says if he has to use the thing in public for weeks, it needs to look good. He actually said the ‘d’ word in front of thing, but if I said that part, you’d get mad.”

“Thank you for that, Robb,” Ned said laughing. “Your little brother seems to be full, but I don’t think he’s going to sleep. Let’s go get the infant carrier and see if he’ll go into it without protest.”

“Grandpa has to walk real slow with the cane, but he says he’ll get better,” Robb continued as Ned and Robert rose from their chairs. “Part of his skeleton is metal now instead of bone. I said that sounded cool, but he said it really wasn’t. Arya told Granddad if he ever gets part of his skeleton changed to metal, he should get a cane with a wolf on the hand part. Then he and Grandpa can look good together. Everybody laughed except Granddad and Grandpa and Arya. She got mad because she said a wolf cane would look really good and it’s mean to laugh at her good ideas.”

Ned and Robert both laughed then, and Robb told them, “You better get all that laughing out before you get where Arya is,” which made them both laugh harder.

Dinner was perfect. The conversation was lively, and no one said anything too terribly out of line to anyone else. The food, of course, was wonderful. Ned’s biggest problem throughout the meal was keeping Catelyn in her seat. She kept trying to jump up and get various things for people, and he had to practically order her to stay put and eat. Everyone except the smaller children was perfectly capable of getting things for themselves, and she deserved to relax and enjoy eating all the wonderful food she’d prepared more than anyone else.

No one wanted dessert immediately after finishing. The pies, cakes, and cookies would be attacked later in the evening, but at the moment all of the adults were much too full and the children had begun chanting “Presents! Presents!” Robb started hitting the table with the handle of his fork in rhythm with the chant. Jon quickly followed suit, and Ned decided to shut that down before all of the children began banging on furniture with silverware.

“Okay, troops!” he said in the most commanding voice he could muster. “No more chanting. Here’s what we’re going to do. Every man here over the age of eight except for Hoster (Robb and Jon beamed at being included in the “men”) pick up their plate and glass and take it to the kitchen sink. Ed and Ben, you then gather up the ladies’ plates and younger kids’. You four—(he motioned to Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Robert Arryn) start gathering up silverware and put it in the big metal bowl I’ll put on the kitchen floor for you.”

“There’s too much silverware for just us to carry!” Arya protested.

“Not if you make more than trip,” Ned assured her. “And feel free to enlist some of the men to help you after they carry in the plates and glasses. Ladies, I’ll leave clearing up and putting away actual food to you because I’ll mess that up.”

Catelyn laughed. “I can clear the table, Ned, and everyone can go and . . .”

“Nope. Everyone can clear the table, and then everyone can go open presents. That’s how it’s going to be.” With that, he picked up his own plate and Catelyn’s along with their wine glasses and started into the kitchen. Her water glass would have to wait. He deposited the dishes in the sink and grabbed Catelyn’s biggest mixing bowl and set it on the floor out of the way. Letting the little kids fling silverware into a bowl they could reach easily and couldn’t hurt seemed much safer than letting them hurl it into the sink with the very breakable dishes.

He was gratified to see that his system worked pretty well. He and Brynden Tully stood at the sink and washed dishes (Cat wouldn’t put her good china in the dishwasher) as the ladies wrapped up food or put it into storage containers. When they’d finished, he, Catelyn, Brynden, Lyanna, and Lysa joined everyone else in the great room. Ned smiled to see his father holding Rickon in his lap while Hoster Tully sat beside him making faces at the baby to get him to smile. The other adults were scattered around the various pieces of furniture except for Brandon who was pouring drinks, and the kids were all on the floor looking at the presents under the tree with longing. They all jumped up as the final adults came into the room.

“Can we open now? Can we open now?” 

Ned laughed. “Yes. But no free-for-all. Everybody find a spot, and I’ll hand out presents.”

“Dad?” Robb asked. “Could I please give you and Mom your presents first? I really, really want you to get yours first.”

Ned smiled. Robb was actually bouncing a bit on his toes as he asked, looking almost as young as Bran in that moment. 

“Since you’re more excited about giving a present than getting one this year, I think it would be lovely if you gave us yours first,” Catelyn said, ruffling his hair with her fingers before sitting down on the loveseat and motioning for Ned to sit beside her. “Let Robb play Santa’s helper first this year,” she told him.

Ned had barely sat down when Robb thrust the square wrapped box into his hands, having already given the other one to Catelyn. They opened them to find matching coffee mugs as expected. But Catelyn’s genuinely delighted “Oh!” as she got hers clear of the box first alerted Ned that Robb hadn’t gotten just the standard ‘MOM’ and ‘DAD’. He got his own mug free and saw that one side was printed with all his children’s names. On the other side, it read ‘Ned Stark’s Christmas Tree Team’ He laughed and exclaimed, “Robb, this is wonderful!” He then traded mugs with Catelyn and saw that hers also had all the kids’ names but the other side read ‘Catelyn Stark’s Christmas Cookie Crew’.

“Do you like them? Do you really like them?” Robb asked them excitedly, and Catelyn pulled him into a big hug.

“We love them!” she exclaimed. Then she let go of him so that Ned could give his firstborn son a hug of his own.

“This is a very thoughtful and meaningful gift, son. Your mother and I will cherish them.”

“I knew you’d like them!” he beamed. Then he leaned in and said more quietly, “I kinda wanted to put Jon’s name on, too, because he does the cookies and Christmas tree with us sometimes, but I didn’t want Robin to feel left out. Or Ed and Beth, if they were here.”

“You’re a very thoughtful boy, Robb,” Catelyn said, kissing his cheek. Raising her voice a bit, she said, “Now shall we get several people up there to hand out all the presents?”

“No!” Sansa and Arya immediately cried out. “If Robb got to give you his special gift with everyone watching, then we should get to give you our special gifts with everyone watching, too!” Sansa said firmly.

“Hear! Hear!” cried Edmure. “We all want to see the special gift!”

Ned thought Catelyn’s brother’s cheeks looked a bit flushed, and he wondered how much beer and wine Ed had consumed.

“Ned and Cat aren’t the only people here receiving presents,” Lysa put in. “Sweetrobin, would you like to get a present next?”

“I don’t care,” little Robert said. “Bran says they picked out special presents for Aunt Cat and Uncle Ned all by themselves this year. I kinda want to see them. And maybe I can get special presents for you and Daddy next year, Mama.”

“Well I . . .” Lysa started.

“That’s a lovely thought, son,” Jon Arryn said quickly. “Your mother and I are proud of you.” Ned thought Lysa still looked more put out than proud, but Jon turned to Sansa and Arya and said, “Go on, girls. Get your mother’s present, and Bran you get your father’s.”

“No!” Arya demanded. “One at a time.”

“Arya . . .” Ned started.

“But they’re not the same, Daddy. Robb’s presents matched. Our presents don’t have anything matching.”

At that, Edmure Tully barked out a laugh and Benjen choked on his beer. Arya glared at her uncles and continued. “We got something special just for Mom and something special just for you. They’re not the same.”

Ned feared that they’d never get through all the presents under the tree before midnight at this rate, but he remembered Robb’s comment about Arya not wanting her good ideas laughed at. He smiled at his daughters. “Ladies first, then. Get your mom’s present, girls.”

Excitedly, the girls ran to the tree and picked up a big box elegantly wrapped and topped with a big gold ribbon.

“Isn’t it pretty, Mommy?” Sansa exclaimed. Ned knew she must be excited because almost never called Catelyn ‘Mommy’ anymore. “Uncle Edmure took us to the store lady to get it wrapped special.”

“It’s beautiful,” Catelyn assured them. “I almost hate to open it.”

“You have to open it! The present’s better than the dumb old wrapping paper!” Arya insisted. 

“The paper isn’t dumb!” Sansa said, frowning at her sister.

“Girls!” Catelyn interjected. “The paper is lovely, and I can’t wait to see the present, so here goes.”

Catelyn removed all the paper, took the lid off the box, and looked puzzled. Ned leaned over to look and saw a lot of pink. Whatever it was appeared to be made of some sort of fuzzy material. Slowly, she lifted it out of the box, and when she held the top of it up above her head, the bottom of it fell all the way to the floor. It took Ned a moment to recognize what he was seeing. Catelyn was holding fuzzy footie pajamas—all one piece like the ones the smaller children wore in the winter. This was not child-sized however. It was made for an adult, in spite of being covered in pink kittens. Upon closer inspection, he realized it even had a hood—and that that hood was topped by two pink cat ears.

“Oh my!” Catelyn said as she surveyed ridiculous garment. “Thank you, girls.”

Ned heard some giggles from around the room. Apparently, the girls heard them, too.

“Do you like it, Mommy?” Arya asked, biting her lip after she spoke apprehensively.

“Of course, I do!” Catelyn exclaimed firmly. “It looks very . . . warm.”

At that point, Edmure Tully doubled over with laughter that he apparently could no longer hold in. Arya shot him a death glare, and Sansa looked at him as if she wanted to cry.

“Why are you laughing, Uncle Edmure?” she demanded. “You told us it was a brilliant present!”

At this point, Catelyn gave Edmure a death glare that looked alarmingly like Arya’s, and the man quickly got control of himself. “So I did, Mini Cat. And it is! I’m laughing because the first thing you told me about the gift was that Cat needed to stay warm, and that’s the first thing she said about it! Isn’t it funny and wonderful that you know your mother so well?”

Sansa and Arya both looked at their uncle suspiciously and then Sansa said slowly, “Well, yes.” Turning back toward Catelyn, she said, “We don’t want you to be cold all the time when you sleep, Mom. Now you won’t have to be. These jammies are the warmest ever, and we picked the kitty cat one because you’re Cat. Get it? We thought it was perfect!”

“So now you don’t have to sleep naked all the time anymore!” Arya added enthusiastically.

Edmure and Benjen both began shaking and covering their mouths with their hands to keep from laughing hysterically, Robert Baratheon laughed out loud, and Brandon practically choked out the words “Oh damn!”

“Um, I . . . thank you for being concerned about me, girls, but I . . .” Catelyn stammered as her face began to turn crimson.

“All the time, Ned?” Robert asked, still laughing so hard he could barely be understood. “Am I to understand your beautiful bride crawls into your bed in her birthday suit every night?” 

“Robert, please!” Ned admonished him, but Brandon was now laughing uproariously, Edmure and Benjen had given up their fight against laughter, and Lyanna had actual tears in her eyes as she shook silently.

Arya apparently took Robert’s words as a slight against her mother because she whirled on him and shouted, “She has to sleep naked ‘cuz she doesn’t have any good jammies! Me and Sansa looked in her drawer and she only has these dumb ones that are really tiny and too thin to keep anybody warm.”

“You can see right through them,” Sansa added.

“And they have scratchy stuff,” Arya put in. “That scratchy . . . what is it, Sansa? The fancy, scratchy stuff?”

“Lace, Arya,” Sansa said, rolling her eyes. “Lace makes things pretty.”

“Well, it’s scratchy,” Arya insisted. “No wonder Mommy never wears it. But these jammies are soft and warm and will never scratch you, Mommy!” she told her mother earnestly.

The various adults in the room had tried with varying amounts of success to keep straight faces during this description of Catelyn’s lingerie, and Ned suppressed the urge to laugh himself at the ridiculousness of the situation. He and Catelyn rarely wore anything to bed, it was true. They preferred lying skin to skin, not that it was anyone’s business, and they most certainly preferred to make love entirely naked. He liked seeing and touching every inch of his beautiful wife and by some miracle, she seemed to feel the same way about him. They had robes hanging right beside the bed for the nights when one of the children made an appearance over a bad dream or a tummy ache or a loud thunderstorm which they always put on before climbing out of bed or inviting the kids in for a snuggle. It had never occurred to him that the kids thought twice about their lack of actual sleeping attire.

“It looks wonderfully warm, Arya. What a very thoughtful gift! And how kind of your Uncle Edmure to help you purchase it. I don’t know how I’ll thank him for that.” 

The girls might not have heard the implied threat in Catelyn’s words, but Edmure did. He looked down and flushed a bit himself. Brynden Tully laughed, and soon pretty much everyone joined in except Ned’s father and Catelyn’s. Even Jon Arryn looked amused.

Sansa, however, leapt to her uncle’s defense. “Don’t laugh at Uncle Ed!” she ordered everyone. “He was the best helper ever. He took us shopping, kept our secret, and even took us skating.”

“Edmure’s a real prince!” Benjen announced, holding up his beer in a salute toward Catelyn’s little brother and somehow managing not to laugh.

“Hey! Your turn’s coming, Stark!” Edmure shot back.

“Oh, yes!” Brandon exclaimed. “Bran tells me you helped him shop, Ben. I can’t wait to see Ned’s new pajamas!”

Sansa looked at Brandon as if he’d lost his mind. “Daddy doesn’t need pajamas, Uncle Brandon,” she said as if the very idea were ridiculous.

“You’re telling me Ned puts on pajamas to get into a bed with a naked woman it?” Brandon asked, shaking his head. “Ned, you’re more hopeless than I thought!”

Several people spoke at the same time after that. Rickard Stark said, “Brandon that is enough. Apologize to your brother for your boorish behavior right now.” Ned himself said, “Brandon, shut up.” Lysa squealed and grabbed her son to her, putting her hands over his ears. And Sansa, Arya, Robb, and Bran all said some version of “No! Daddy always sleeps naked, too!”

In the silence that immediately followed all those pronouncements, Arya added, “But he doesn’t get cold. He hardly even uses the covers. But if he pushes them off Mom, she gets really cold. One time, they had all the covers off and he was all the way on top of Mommy to keep her warm.”

Lyanna howled, and Ned heard all the men except Rickard, Hoster, and Jon laugh loudly. Lysa actually screeched, “Do you people not have locks?!?” as she held her hands more tightly over young Robert’s ears. Robb and Jon, who were both just old enough to have at least a bit more understanding of this situation than the girls did were very quiet and looked vaguely uncomfortable. 

“Oh dear god,” Catelyn breathed. Ned could feel her trembling slightly beside him.

“Mommy?” Arya asked hesitantly, her lower lip quivering. “Do you not like your present?”

Catelyn looked at her daughters and took a deep breath. “I love my present,” she said fiercely, grabbing and holding both girls to her. “And yes, Lysa, my bedroom door has a lock which, God forbid, we forgot to set one time, not that it’s any of your business.” She then looked around the room with an expression that silenced everyone. “I love footie pajamas, girls. I can’t wait to wear this tonight. You’re right that I get cold easily, and it’s a good thing that your Daddy is so good at keeping me warm.” She looked around at the adults in the room again, particular at her siblings and Brandon, and said rather defiantly, “Everyone should be so lucky.” Then looking back to Sansa and Arya, she softened her voice once more. “But of course, sometimes he has to work late or even go out of town, and I’m so cold without proper pajamas. This is positively perfect and it’ll keep me warm all those times.”

Both girls grinned widely and hugged their mother. “Come on up here, Bran,” Sansa said. “We picked it out, but the present’s from you and Rickon, too.” Bran jumped up and joined in hugging Catelyn. 

“I really like the ears, Mommy,” he said.

“I do, too,” she told him, smiling and kissing him on the top of his head. “Now run and get your daddy’s present so everyone else can start opening.”

Bran grinned and ran off to the tree like a shot, and Ned reached for Catelyn’s hand as she kissed both girls and carefully laid the garish pink garment beside her.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you, too,” she told him. 

“Aw, go on and kiss her already, Ned!” Robert said. “It’s been made clear you do it pretty regularly behind closed doors.”

The laughter then was more subdued. Catelyn squeezed his hand to let him know she was all right which meant he was all right as well. “I most definitely do, Robert. As you have pointed out any number of times, my wife is a beautiful woman. But our private moments are our own and I’ve no desire to share any more about them with you people, so I’m afraid you’ll get no more entertainment from us tonight.”

Edmure Tully appeared to swallow a laugh, and Benjen coughed loudly while muttering something to Edmure that had him nearly shaking with repressed laughter.

“Here’s your present, Daddy!” Bran shouted, and his second son approached him waving a present which had obviously been wrapped by a child in paper covered in those little animated dogs he liked so much. Looking from his son’s eager face back to his oddly behaving brother and brother-in-law, Ned wondered what on earth that package contained, but comforted himself with the thought that it couldn’t possibly be more embarrassing than the girls’ exposing a few details of his and Catelyn’s bedroom habits to their fathers and siblings.

Surely, it couldn’t be any worse than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, all!!
> 
> There are only two chapters left to go in this, so I hope to have it wrapped up by the New Year! :-)


	6. Chapter 6

Catelyn Stark forced herself to smile as her little boy approached his father with his present in hand and tried very hard to think about anything other than the fact that every adult Stark and Tully in existence (and Robert Baratheon, of all people!!) now knew that she and Ned preferred to sleep in the nude and that Arya had walked in on them having sex. In truth, Robb had walked in on them once years earlier, but they’d barely gotten started that time and were still both completely beneath the covers. Robb had been utterly oblivious to the fact that his parents were doing anything other than snuggling in bed to sleep, but it had freaked Ned out badly enough that he’d installed quite a durable lock on their bedroom door—one they’d always managed to remember to lock (and that she’d always made Ned get out of bed and unlock afterward in case a child needed them during the night)—except for one night about eight months ago when her pregnancy hormones were doing wild and crazy things to her sex drive.

Even on that night, they’d locked the door initially after making certain all the kids were asleep and retiring to their bedroom for what Ned laughingly referred to as ‘play time for the grown-ups.’ Afterward, he’d unlocked the door like he always did before they fell asleep. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Catelyn had awakened to the sound of him mumbling her name and rubbing his body against her backside. When it became rather apparent her husband was having some sort of erotic dream about her, she’d decided to wake him up so they could both enjoy whatever inspiration his sleeping mind had provided him. That had ended up with the two of them having some rather frenzied sex with all the covers kicked to the foot of the bed and Ned atop her, holding her arms above her head by her wrists and thrusting into her with abandon. They’d climaxed at almost the exact same moment, and immediately afterward, Arya had flung open the door and announced she heard a funny noise. Considering that that neither of them had even recovered their breath, and Ned had still been inside her, Catelyn was beyond impressed with the speed of his reflexes as he’d jumped up and covered both of them before the child was even fully in the room. She’d seen him lying on top of her though, so Catelyn had quickly explained that Daddy must have kicked the covers off in his sleep, and that Mommy must have then pulled him right on top of her in her sleep to keep warm. Other than shrugging and saying that blankets would keep Mommy warm better without squishing her, Arya hadn’t seemed bothered by or curious about anything she’d seen so she and Ned had let the subject drop. As Catelyn had pulled on her robe to walk her daughter back to the bedroom she shared with Sansa and tuck her back into bed after a snuggle, she’d tried not to ponder what ‘funny noise’ had awakened the child in the first place as the girls’ bedroom was the only one which shared a wall with hers and Ned’s.

Now, after the experience with the girls’ gift to her, she frantically tried to remember her brief conversation with Sansa about the gift Bran had picked out for Ned. She’d said she was afraid it was silly, but Catelyn couldn’t recall her giving any clues as to what it might actually be. At this point, she felt that nothing in that box could possibly surprise her. She was wrong.

Bran jumped around excitedly as Ned ripped the Paw Patrol paper off the gift. “Sansa helped wrap it but I picked the paper!” he exclaimed. “Uncle Ben got just the kind I told him.”

“Uncle Ben, huh?” Ned asked him and cast a suspicious glance at his younger brother.

“Benjen helped the children obtain your gift like Edmure so kindly helped them with mine,” Catelyn said in a honey-sweet voice as she looked meaningfully at both the young men in question. Both of them focused entirely on the box in Ned’s lap as he lifted the lid, refusing to meet her eyes.

The first thing that Ned pulled out of the box was a blue cap.

“Well, that’s . . . quite something, Bran,” he said. Catelyn doubted that the confusion in his voice as clear to Bran as it was to her and was grateful for that. Ned set the cap on his head, and she realized it was clearly a policeman’s hat. Next he pulled out a blue vest with a badge on it. Edmure giggled behind his hand and Benjen elbowed him sharply, but Catelyn could see that Ben was having trouble keeping a straight face as well. “This is really nice, buddy,” Ned said as he held it up, clearly at a loss as to what else to say.

“It’s a police suit, Daddy!” Bran yelled, grinning. “Do you love it? Is it like the one you used to have?”

Ned’s face registered complete incomprehension just as Catelyn began to understand.

“Oh dear god,” she whispered, suddenly feeling a bit queasy.

“Bran, I was never a policeman, buddy,” Ned said gently.

“Ned . . .” Catelyn said very softly.

“No! You liked to play policeman! You know, when you were little?”

“Ned,” Catelyn said more urgently, and her husband turned his confused face toward her just as Bran spoke again.

“But all you have left of your police stuff now is your toy handcuffs, and . . .”

Catelyn didn’t even register what Bran said after that point because she saw Ned’s eyes open wide and look at her with an expression of dread. “No . . .” he mouthed, wanting her assure him his suspicion was wrong, but she only nodded, feeling the flaming heat return to her cheeks once more.

Bran was now reaching into the box and pulling out some grey plastic toy handcuffs. “Look, Daddy! This police suit has handcuffs that look a lot realer than your old ones, but you can still use your old ones if you want.”

Ned nodded at him rather helplessly and the room was fairly quiet for a long moment.

“Bran! What are you talking about?” Robb finally said. “Dad doesn’t have any handcuffs!”

“Yes, he does.”

“No, he doesn’t. Did you just get Dad something that you wanted to play with? Because that’s kind of selfish if you did.”

“No I did not!” Bran shouted at the top of his lungs. “This police suit is for grown-ups, Robb! They have lots of fun suits for grown-ups—Superman and Spiderman and firemen and soldiers and policemen and a whole bunch of other cool ones. Uncle Ben showed me on his iPad! But Daddy’s favorite is the policeman. Mommy told me that when I found Daddy’s handcuffs!”

No one was quite laughing at loud although several of the adults had rather strained expressions on their faces. Ned seemed almost paralyzed, but Bran was red-faced with anger at Robb, and as much as she really wanted the ground to simply swallow her whole, Catelyn wanted even more to calm down her little boy. 

“Bran,” she started to say, but before she could continue, Robb broke in.

“Sorry, Bran, but we all know Dad doesn’t have any handcuffs.”

“Yes he does!” Bran yelled again, and he took off running from the room.

“Robb! Look what you’ve done. You’ve made your brother run to his room on Christmas!” Ned said angrily, seeming to find his voice again. “He’s four years old. You’ve no reason to question his choice of present even if it does seem silly to you. You owe your brother an apology.” He took a deep breath. “And how would you know whether or not I have toy handcuffs? Hmm?” 

That stopped any protest Robb might have made. “But . . . why would you? You’re a grown-up! What would you even do with them, Dad?”

At that, Edmure and Benjen could no longer control themselves as they both began laughing out loud. 

Brandon looked back and forth between Ned and Catelyn for a moment and said, “Seriously, Ned. If you do have handcuffs, I really wanna know about it.” Then he began to laugh.

Arya looked at her uncle. “How come, Uncle Brandon? Did you have a police suit when you were little, too? We can tell Ed and Beth to get you a grown-up one next year.”

Before Brandon could answer, his namesake nephew came running back into the room. “Here, Robb! Look!” Bran shouted, triumphantly holding a pair of red plush padded handcuffs over his head. 

“Oh dear god,” Catelyn whispered again, covering her face in her hands.

“Bran, bring those to me,” Ned said, his voice likely sterner than he intended due to the shock of seeing that particular item held up for display to all their relatives.

Bran’s face fell. “I’m sorry I took your handcuffs out of your drawer, Daddy,” Bran said as he handed them over. Mommy told me I couldn’t play with them. I thought maybe if you put on your police suit stuff, you could use your old ones and I could use the new ones, and we could play policemen together.”

“So you did get him something for you to play with,” Robb said, apparently feeling at least somewhat exonerated. “But you were right about Dad having handcuffs, Bran. I never saw handcuffs like those before. Where did you find them, anyway?”

Catelyn watched Ned stuff the red padded cuffs into the box and out of sight from behind her fingers. No one in the room was making a sound at this point, and she knew without looking up that every last one of their nosy siblings was leaning toward Bran, eagerly awaiting his response.

“In the drawer in Mommy and Daddy’s room,” he said. “I found them and asked Mommy if I could have them and she said no. I asked what they were for, and she said they were just an old toy of Daddy’s.” 

At that point, audible snickers came from multiple directions, and Catelyn did raise her face to stare down everyone then. She didn’t want Bran to feel he was being laughed at.

“Do you have any of your old toys, Mom?” Arya asked. “And can we play with them?”

Lyanna laughed and spit out her wine then, and Robert put a hand over her mouth although he was doubled over shaking with silent laughter himself.

Bran shook his head. “This was the only toy I found. I asked Mommy if Daddy had a whole police suit, and she said he had one when he was little and this was the only part of it left. He kept it ‘cuz it was special.” 

“Oh, it’s a special toy all right,” Brandon said suggestively, causing a new wave of poorly suppressed laughter.

“Brandon!” Ned and Rickard said sharply at the same time.

“What drawer did you find it in, Bran? I never saw it before,” Arya said, and Catelyn realized that going through her bedroom drawers must be a more regular pastime of her children than she’d realized. Ned might have to get some locks to put on those.

“The one with the message oil in it,” Bran said. “The handcuffs must have been someplace else the day we looked in that drawer together.”

“What’s message oil?” Sansa asked.

Bran shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s real slippery and has kind of a funny smell. Arya couldn’t read all the words on the bottle.”

“I knew ‘oil,’ Arya said proudly. “I kinda guessed at the word in front of it. But if tried to sound it out, it seemed kinda like message.”

“Massage oil!” Lyanna squealed. “The little heathens found massage oil in their bedroom!”

Her laughter was echoed by others’ as several children’s voices asked, “What’s massage oil?”

Deciding that she had to regain some control over the situation, Catelyn said clearly, “Massage oil is kind of like lotion except, as Bran said, it’s more slippery. Rubbing it into your skin helps when you have sore muscles.”

“What are sore muscles?” Arya asked.

“A pain in your back or legs or arms after you overexert yourself,” Ned told her.

“And it seems your father’s quite an authority on overexertion,” Robert added, winking as he said the last word.

“Constant nudity, massage oils, restraints . . . . it’s always the quiet ones,” Lyanna said, shaking her head. 

“I think we’ve had about enough of this conversation, Lya,” Ned said firmly. He seemed to have recovered his composure. Catelyn felt a bit steadier now, too, with the handcuffs out of sight, even if she could still feel the heat in her cheeks.

“Now, come here, Bran.” Ned still had the police cap on his head, and he put the vest on before pulling the little boy up into his lap. “So you found out from your mother how much I loved playing police officer as a child?” Catelyn couldn’t help smiling a bit in spite of her blush as he emphasized the words ‘as a child’ to head off any salacious comments from the supposed adults present.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“And you decided that you would get me this very cool police uniform so that you and I could play something I loved together.”

“Yes, Daddy. Because I like to play with you.”

Catelyn found herself blinking tears from her eyes both at Bran’s words and the expression on her husband’s face when he heard them.

“I like to play with you, too, son, and there’s not another present in all the world that could mean more to me than this one.”

Bran grinned and gave his father a big hug. “We have to let Sansa and Arya play, too, if they want, Daddy,” he said. “And Baby Rickon when he gets big enough. Because the police suit is from all of us.” Bran gave Robb a rather pointed look, but Robb wisely chose not to respond.

“We certainly will, son. Now, how about we pass out more presents,” Ned proclaimed. As all of the children began raising hands and clamoring that they’d like presents, Ned laughed. “How about we pass out presents to everyone—to everyone who isn’t Catelyn or myself, that is.”

The laughter after that comment seemed to diffuse the remaining awkwardness of the situation although Catelyn thought her sister still wore the expression of someone who just swallowed a lemon, and Edmure and Benjen still wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

Edmure and Benjen did quickly volunteer to help Ned pass out gifts and in very little time, the floor was littered in wrapping paper as children and adults alike opened presents with enthusiasm, and cries of “Thank you!” and “Look at this!” and “I love it!” and countless other excited exclamations were heard all around the room. Rickon had been a perfectly behaved baby all evening—cooing, smiling, and tolerating being passed from one adult relative to another. Even Robert Baratheon held him at one point, but Catelyn did have to admonish him that three month olds are too young to be tossed into the air. The other children all seemed genuinely pleased with their various gifts, and the adults began to drift back into the kitchen to get cake, pie, or cookies for themselves and the children as they asked for sweets. The adults also continued to enjoy wine, beer, or cocktails, but once Catelyn noted that her Uncle Brynden had switched to tea after dinner, she didn’t bother to monitor who was drinking what. Brandon, who was drinking the most by far, had already agreed to spend the night, and Ned had taken his car keys. Robert would drive Lyanna home. (Jon had already asked for and been given permission to stay the night with Robb.) Rickard never drank very much so he could get Benjen home, and Jon Arryn drank even less than Rickard so Lysa’s family had a driver. Assured that Brynden would be good to get her father and brother home, Catelyn could relax and allow all the other adults to have whatever holiday spirits they chose while she enjoyed the chaos of children trying out new Christmas toys and games.

“Cat.”

Catelyn looked up from where she sat on the floor reading the instructions to some new game that Bran and Robert Arryn wanted to play to see her sister approaching her.

“Do you need something, Lysa?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Catelyn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and instead smiled at her sister. “Okay.”

“Not here. Away from the children.”

Catelyn sighed. “All right. Give me five minutes to get these two started on this game.”

“What is that? Is it age appropriate? I don’t want Sweetrobin exposed to any further . . . adult material . . . this evening.”

Catelyn didn’t bother to suppress the eye roll at that. “Well, considering it’s the game you bought my children for Christmas, I certainly hope it’s age appropriate,” she said dryly.

“Oh. Well, yes. That’s fine then.”

Catelyn shook her head, and turned back to the instructions. They boys pretty much had the general idea down. She talked them through their first couple turns and then left them on their own. Her sister was waiting for her.

With rather forced cheerfulness, Catelyn led her sister into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

“The children might come in here,” Lysa said.

“Yes. To grab a cookie or ask for a piece of cake. Which they will then take out to the great room or down to the basement. Here, Lysa. Why don’t you have a cookie, and tell me whatever you need to tell me.” She pushed a tray of peanut butter blossoms toward her sister because she knew Lysa loved them.

Lysa did take a cookie and then looked at Catelyn. “Are you proud of yourself, Catelyn?” she said. “You insist on hosting Christmas and then turn the gift exchange into some sort of pornographic joke.”

Catelyn started at her a moment, wondering precisely when her sister became quite so bitter and unhappy. Lysa had always been too quick to take offense or find fault and too easily became envious of others, but she’d not been truly bitter or unhappy when they were children. She could be loving and generous back then, and she’d loved Christmas as much as Catelyn did. They’d had fun together. Catelyn missed that.

She sighed. “I have no idea how you expect me to respond to that, Lysa. I’m afraid I didn’t see any pornography this evening. Did someone give you dirty magazines?”

“You know very well what I’m talking about, Catelyn. And I don’t appreciate your making light of it. My Sweetrobin was traumatized by those awful gifts you let your children give you.”

Catelyn took several deep breaths. “Lysa, listen to me very carefully. First of all, my children gave Ned and myself two coffee mugs, footie pajamas, and a policeman costume. There is not a damn thing about any of those items that could be construed as pornographic. Secondly, if you bothered to listen to my children explain their gifts, you heard very young people who used their own creativity and initiative to give someone they love gifts that would really show how much they love them. As to any misunderstandings by children of what goes on in the lives of adults—well those have been occurring throughout human history. They may cause us to chuckle, they may cause us some embarrassment, but they in no way can be construed as pornography. Now, the comments from adults about the misunderstandings of children can certainly be considered off-color or inappropriate, but nothing that was said here tonight was pornographic or even understandable to the kids younger than Robb and Jon. Finally, if your son was traumatized by anything this evening, it was probably your constantly smacking your hands over his ears.”

“Well! I should have known you wouldn’t listen. You never do. Your children aren’t perfect, Catelyn! And if you won’t take good advice on how to address the worst of their behavior, I cannot keep bringing Sweetrobin around them.”

Catelyn looked at her incredulously. “No, Lysa. My children aren’t perfect. They’re loud, and they’re messy, and they’re stubborn, and sometimes mean to each other or disobedient to Ned and me. And apparently, they like to go through my bedroom drawers—which is a new conversation I’ll need to have with them. But they’re also happy. They’re loved and they’re loving. They’re curious and adventurous and constantly learning and growing and surprising me with their beautiful hearts. I love my nephew, and I will miss him terribly if you don’t allow him to be a part of our family, but I won’t allow you to dictate how Ned and I raise our beautifully imperfect children.”

“After tonight, I don’t know that the two of you are spending any effort on actually raising them at all!” Lysa exclaimed. “Since you apparently spend all your time behind closed—but not locked!—doors engaged in all manner of depravity!”

“Depravity? Are you serious? Lysa, I am a married woman. I love my husband. I love making love to my husband. And neither the manner in which I do that nor the frequency with which I do it are any of your damn business. So keep your jealous, judgmental, bitter mind out of my bedroom!” 

Catelyn wasn’t consciously aware of leaving her seat, but when she finished speaking, she found herself standing up looking down at her sister. Lysa looked up at her with an expression of shock and dismay, but she said nothing. Catelyn also became aware of the sound of slow clapping and looked toward the doorway to see Robert Baratheon and Lyanna Stark standing there. Robert’s face looked as shocked as Lysa’s, but his expression also hinted at admiration rather than dismay. Lyanna was the one clapping. Then she grinned and shook her head. “It’s always the quiet ones.” 

“I think it’s time for me and mine to go home, Cat. I don’t feel comfortable in this environment,” Lysa said in a tight voice.

Catelyn sighed and sank back into her chair. “Then you should go, Lysa,” she said sadly. “It’s Christmas, and the last thing I want to do is to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Lysa looked at her a moment before rising and saying, “Merry Christmas, Catelyn,” in the exact same tone of voice she had used to state she wasn’t comfortable.

“Merry Christmas, Lysa,” Catelyn replied. She didn’t know what else she could say. Lysa turned to leave, and Catelyn saw that Robert and Lyanna had disappeared from the doorway, a rare act of discretion by the two of them.

Catelyn watched her sister walk away and wondered yet again what had happened to Lysa over the years and what she herself could have done differently.

“Hey. You okay?”

Lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t even seen her husband enter the kitchen. She smiled up at him as he walked behind her to put his hands on her shoulders and rub them.

“Lysa and Jon are leaving,” she said simply.

“What? Jon didn’t say anything to me. He seems to be having a grand time with Dad, Hoster, and Brynden.”

“Lysa’s probably informing him that they are leaving right now.”

Ned’s hands stilled on her shoulders. “Oh.” He moved to pull another chair closer to hers and sat down beside her. “What’s her issue now?”

“She disapproves of our exposing our children to our depraved sexual appetites and our encouragement of pornographic Christmas gifts,” Catelyn said flatly.

“What the . . .? Jesus Christ, Catelyn! What the fuck is wrong with her?”

“Language,” Catelyn admonished mildly, mostly out of habit. “Tender little ears are forever listening.”

“No shit,” Ned said shaking his head with half laugh, half sigh. “And spying, and barging in without knocking, and now rummaging through our bedroom, it would seem.”

Catelyn laughed herself, realizing that her laughter probably bordered on hysteria. “I nearly died when Bran came in swinging those cuffs around in the air.”

“You nearly died?” Ned said, his very deep voice rising so much in pitch, it nearly cracked. “I was looking directly at your father as he saw the damn things and then looked directly at me!”

“Oh, Ned!” Catelyn laughed, tears now spilling from her eyes. 

“Yes! I looked at that man’s face as he stared at me, and I knew . . . I knew, Catelyn! . . . that this was a man who was staring down a pervert he’d just discovered handcuffing his little girl to the bed naked!”

“I’m going to murder both of our little brothers!” Catelyn said with conviction. “Not on Christmas. But one day soon . . . when they least suspect it . . . they will pay.”

Ned raised a hand to cup her cheek. “Are you truly all right, Cat? You handled it all brilliantly, you know. You were so much better with the kids through it all than I was. I just never . . . know what to say.”

“Oh, but you did, my love. You were so good with Bran.” She bit her lip. “You know you’re going to have play police officer with him at some point before he goes to bed tonight. Are you prepared to arrest our party guests with those cuffs?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Ned said adamantly. “I’ll play with him, but we’re using only the cuffs that came with the costume. I’ll just tell him that he’s right. My new handcuffs look ‘realer’ and those are all we need. I’ll buy him a whole matching set—kid sized if he likes. And the red ones will simply disappear.”

Catelyn pouted. “Forever?”

“Oh, no, my love. Just into a drawer with fucking lock on it until a certain redhead who gave me the damn things one Valentine’s Day as joke needs reminded just how much fun they can be on occasion.” His grey eyes became smoke and leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath on her flesh as he spoke, but he didn’t touch her. She shivered under that gaze.

He leaned back in his chair with a smug expression on his face. “Oh, good. It seems you at least aren’t too mortified by our Christmas present revelations to ever let me touch you again.”

Now she leaned in toward him. “I was embarrassed,” she said honestly. “Not by anything we’ve ever done in our bedroom . . . or elsewhere, but by the idea of anyone else even thinking about it—much less getting any actual details for their amusement. You are mine, Eddard Stark, and what we do when we’re alone belongs only to us. I don’t like sharing the details.” She smiled at him, enjoying the way his smoky eyes held hers and his breathing sped up slightly. “However,” she said, dropping her voice to a husky whisper and moving her lips directly against his ear. “If forced to choose between never having you touch me again or letting all of our dirty-minded relatives know all our secrets, I’d be willing to give them a show right there in the great room.”

She then stood up and smiled at him. “We’d better go say goodbye to Jon. I’m sure little Robert isn’t happy about leaving. The least we can do is make this as easy as possible for the poor man since you know my sister won’t.”

“Cat . . .” he said hoarsely.

“Poor baby,” she laughed. “Have I managed to shock you more than the children did?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Shock is not the primary emotion you’ve just elicited, my darling. And you know it.”

“Oh,” she said. “Dear, dear. Well, my love, while I truly am willing to take extreme measures to keep you in my arms, that whole ‘show in the great room’ would definitely be a last resort, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to exercise a bit of patience for now.”

“You’re an evil woman, Catelyn Stark.”

“Yes. Just ask my sister,” she said airily. “I’m positively depraved.” She then waved cheekily at him before leaving him sitting at the kitchen table giggling to herself about the probable reason he didn’t want to stand up just yet. Maybe she was wicked, but those few moments in the kitchen with her husband had lightened her mood considerably. She loved her sister, but she couldn’t fix whatever was wrong in Lysa’s life this evening, and she was allowed to enjoy Christmas with her family. She was mortified at the thought that all of her relatives would likely be speculating about her sex life for a long time now—and harassing her and Ned about it in a whole new way—but no amount of hazing or embarrassment would ever decrease the joy the two of them found in each other, and she found herself humming along with the Christmas song playing as she rejoined the crowd in the great room—completely unbothered by Lysa’s glare or Robert’s and Lyanna’s amused glances in her direction.

Robert Arryn did cry when his parents bundled him up to go, but he didn’t throw one of his legendary temper tantrums which was a blessing for everyone. Jon warmly thanked Ned and Catelyn for hosting before carrying his son out to the car. A good bit of snow had fallen, and Catelyn worried about the older man carrying the boy, but Jon was remarkably healthy for his age and very proud, so she simply bit her lip and stood by her sister in the doorway until Jon returned to take his wife’s arm. Lysa hadn’t spoken a word to her since the kitchen, and Jon looked at her in silent apology before turning to give Ned a final farewell. 

“Drive carefully!” Catelyn called after them as they walked to the car. On impulse, she added, “I love you, Lysa!” Her sister didn’t return or even turn around to acknowledge her words, but Catelyn knew she’d heard them. She had to hope that was something, at least.

Once the Arryns departed, Catelyn went back to retrieve her youngest from her Uncle Brynden who currently had him. Rickon had been almost supernaturally calm and content throughout the evening. Perhaps it was simply all the people willing to cuddle and entertain him. But Catelyn knew he had to be hungry, and that was well supported by the way he began rooting as soon as he was in her arms. “Children!” she called out above the general hubbub of conversation in her best mom voice.”

“No!” Arya wailed. “It’s not bedtime yet. It can’t be bedtime!”

“Or maybe it’s bedtime in this house more often than anyone ever thought!” Brandon said to Robert and Lyanna who were standing beside him near the bar. 

Catelyn chose to pretend she didn’t hear the remark or the guffaws that followed it from those three. Edmure and Benjen were in her direct line of sight, playing some sort of game with Robb and Jon, and had the good sense not to even crack a smile. “No, Arya,” she said calmly. “It isn’t bedtime yet. Although whining is the quickest way to convince me that you are tired and in need of bed.” She raised her voice slightly to indicate she was speaking to all the children again. “I want all of you to put on your pajamas now so that you can play right up until it’s time to jump in bed. All right?”

There was some grumbling about interrupting whatever they were doing, but a look from Ned silenced it, and five children trooped up to the bedroom to change. Halfway up the stairs, Sansa turned around. “You, too, Mommy!” she exclaimed. “You need to put on your new jammies! I can’t wait to see how beautiful you look!”

“And warm!” Arya added.

“Oh yes, Cat,” Lyanna said. “We all want to see you in your pink fuzzy cat pajamas.” 

Catelyn looked at her sister-in-law’s smirk. Lyanna knew damn well that she didn’t want to parade around in front of everyone in some ridiculous hooded onesie. Robert was looking at the floor to hide his smile. Brandon was positively leering at her, but then he tended to look at lots of women that way when he’d drunk too much. Her uncle was grinning from ear to ear, Ben and Edmure were trying not to laugh, and Rickard and Hoster were loudly continuing their own conversation in an obvious attempt to ignore everyone else. Catelyn was contemplating child-friendly methods of telling Lyanna to go to hell when Sansa spoke again.

“Me and Arya can both wear footie pajamas, too! We’ll all match and it’ll be a Christmas pajama party for Stark girls!”

Catelyn looked up at both her daughters looking at her hopefully from the staircase and smiled. “Of course, I’ll put on my pajamas, too. I have to feed your brother and see if he’s ready to go down in his crib, but I’ll change after that.” Both girls clapped and then they actually hugged each other before running the rest of the way up the stairs. “Ned?” Catelyn said, turning to her husband. “If you could bring my new pajamas upstairs and make sure the kids get into their pajamas okay while I’m feeding Rickon, I’d appreciate it.”

Ned smiled at her. “Absolutely, my love.” 

Without a glance at anyone else, Catelyn carried Rickon to the bedroom he now shared with Bran. He’d only been sleeping through the night pretty reliably for the past three weeks, but Bran had been anxious to have him move in ‘so I’m not the only one by myself.’ Technically, Robb had his own room, but as Jon spent the night almost half the time, it didn’t really seem that way. Everyone even referred to the second single bed in Robb’s room as ‘Jon’s bed.’ When she entered the little boys’ bedroom, now she discovered Bran emptying the contents of his pajama drawer onto the floor.

“What are you doing, Monkey?” she asked him.

“I need my Chase pajamas.” 

It took her a moment to realize he was referencing Paw Patrol. He had at least three pairs of Paw Patrol pajamas, but his favorite character was Chase, the police dog. _Oh,_ she realized.

“Bran, I think you wore those earlier this week. Look in your hamper.”

“But you say I can’t get dirty stuff out of the hamper.”

“I’m making an exception.”

She sat down in the rocking chair and Rickon eagerly latched to her nipple almost before she had her breast completely free of her bra.

“Found the top!” Bran exclaimed, as he now emptied the hamper with the same energy he’d displayed at the drawer a moment ago. “And here’s the bottoms!”

“Bring them here,” she directed him, and he carried the pajamas to her. She inspected them and found no spilled food or other stains anywhere. “These are fine, sweetling. Go ahead and put them on.”

Bran was watching the baby nurse. “He sure likes booby milk,” he said. “It must taste good.”

“Well,” Catelyn said carefully, knowing that all of the other children had asked at some point if they could drink baby milk like one of their infant siblings. “It tastes good to babies. You loved it just as much as Rickon does.”

“I did?” Bran said, his blue eyes going wide.

“You did. But I’m afraid it isn’t very good at all for big boys. You got very bored with it when you were about two.”

“It would be boring to just drink booby milk and never eat any yummy food. I think I’m gonna get more cookies!”

Catelyn laughed at his rapid change of thought. “You can have more cookies since it’s Christmas. Have your dad get them down for you, though. No climbing on my counters, Monkey.”

“I’m not a monkey! I’m a police like Chase,” he announced, pulling his pajama bottoms up. Then he managed to stick his arm through the neck opening on his top, so Catelyn supported Rickon with one arm and managed to straighten out Bran with the other. “Me and Daddy are gonna play police now. He promised,” Bran said when his head popped up through the correct opening.

“Oh, that sounds wonderful, Bran! I mean Chase.” A delightful thought occurred to Catelyn. “Hey! Since Uncle Benjen helped you with Daddy’s present, you should ask him to be the bad guy. He’ll love that. And let Uncle Edmure be a bad guy, too, to thank him for helping the girls with my present.”

“Cool! They’ll make good bad guys!”

“Yes,” came a deep voice from the door. “I think that’s perfect casting.”

Catelyn looked up and grinned at the sight that met her eyes.

“Daddy! You look great!” Bran yelled, running to throw his arms around Ned.

Ned had changed into blue jeans (the only blue pants he owned) and a blue shirt. Over that, he wore the police vest and the belt from the costume that Catelyn hadn’t really looked at in detail before, but on it hung the pair of plastic cuffs, a plastic night stick, a holstered toy pistol and a radio. And, of course, he wore his cap.

“Where’s your red handcuffs, Daddy?” Bran asked, having apparently checked out Ned’s outfit as thoroughly as Catelyn had.

“Oh, I’ve decided I like these a lot better. Just like you said. They look more like real police cuffs. I put the red ones away.”

Catelyn busied herself switching Rickon to the other breast to keep from laughing.

“Well . . . what am I gonna use?”

“I thought we’d take turns. There’s enough police things on my belt for us both to always have something. I think you should take the nightstick first.” He held out the plastic stick to Bran.

“What do I do with it?” Bran asked.

“Well, you use it to hit the bad guys if they try to run away or get out of their handcuffs. Now it’s only play so you mustn’t really hit your brother and sisters. But since your uncles are so much bigger than you, and this is only plastic, I don’t think you can really hurt Ed or Ben with it.”

Bran looked at the plastic weapon in his hand and grinned. “Let’s go, Daddy!” He then sprinted past his father out into the hall.

“You’re a terrible man, and I love it,” Catelyn said, looking up at her husband.

“Hey, you’re the one who assigned them their roles. We’re both evil, remember?”

She laughed. “Are the girls and the older boys all set?”

He nodded. “And your cat suit is on our bed. I’m sending the kids and whatever toys they want to take with them to the basement at this point to grant the adults some peace on the main floor.”

“It’s not a cat suit. That makes it sound like I’m dressing up as Cat Woman or something. And you realize you’re sentencing yourself and Ed and Ben to the basement as well, don’t you?”

“For the record, I’d support you dressing as Cat Woman.” He grinned and tapped his badge. “I’ve now got legal authority to arrest sexy supervillains and to punish you if you resist.”

“Depraved pervert,” she said. “Whatever should I do with you?”

“If you’re taking suggestions, I have many.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed.

“Anyway,” Ned continued, “Ed and Ben deserve the basement. But everyone has to come down for at least a few minutes once you get the baby in bed and change into your pink fluff. Sansa wants everyone to hear her sing a song on her karaoke machine and is hoping to get everyone else to sing, too. Not sure how many takers she’ll get there, but we’ll at least give her her moment of glory. And as strange as it sounds, my father has challenged yours to a game of football on the boys’ Xbox. That may be worth selling tickets for.”

Catelyn laughed. “All right, my love. I’ll join you all as soon as I can. Go play with Bran. And if he tries to beat the hell out of Benjen and Edmure with that little stick, you have my permission to be one of those crooked cops who doesn’t see a thing.”

He kissed her quickly on the mouth, kissed the top of Rickon’s head as he nursed, and then kissed the exposed flesh of her breast above Rickon. She smacked him on the arm, and he left.

Rickon finally had his fill, and she laid him in his crib sound asleep, thanking God for the miracle of his behavior tonight. She’d probably pay for it with many fussy days and nights in the future as Rickon was not always the easiest of babies, but he’d been her little Christmas angel tonight, and she’d happily accept that trade-off. She kissed his sweet sleeping face and went to her bedroom to put on the pajamas.

Pink! Why pink? Nothing about her coloring looked good in pink. Sansa would realize that one day, but right now, pink to her was simply the color of princesses and all things girly. Sighing, Catelyn pulled the thing on and zipped it up, realizing that it was rather form-fitting. She’d have been more comfortable had it been a bit looser. Staring at herself in the mirror, she recalled Ned’s cat suit comment and lamented that he wasn’t far wrong. Well, except that there was nothing remotely sexy about the pink kittens cavorting all over the thing in all their fuzzy glory. Laughing, she did her best to stuff her hair into the hood and pull it onto her head so that the little pink cat ears stood straight up. 

“For the love of God,” she said, looking in the mirror and feeling a great amount of sympathy for the Ralphie character from that Christmas movie about the Red Ryder bb gun. In truth, she’d almost rather be in a big floppy pink bunny suit. At least that hadn’t been quite so form-fitting. “Every last one of those jerks is going to get pictures of me in this,” she told her reflection, shaking her head. She considered leaving the hood off, but she knew perfectly well all the kids would clamor for her to put it up as soon as she got downstairs. If she simply started out that way, she could leave it up for a bit and then say it was too hot and take down for good. She really looked ridiculous. But she conjured in her mind the image of her husband heading downstairs in his police costume. Ned hated costumes! She could barely get him to dress up as anything on Halloween. If he could do this, so could she. And so she headed down the stairs.

In the great room, she was met by peals of laughter from Lyanna, cat calls from Robert and Brandon, and “I cannot believe you are wearing that thing,” from her father.

“The things we do for our children,” she said primly. “Now I understand we’re to go downstairs and have Sansa sing for us?”

“Ah, a descent into kiddie hell. Let me get more bourbon first, Cat,” Brandon said as he eyed every inch of her.

“I didn’t realize you liked kittens so much, Brandon,” she said. “Shall I turn around so you can see the ones on my ass as well?”

“Catelyn!” her father said sternly.

“Nah, Hoster. He had that coming,” her Uncle Brynden said.

“Indeed,” Rickard Stark agreed with a frown at his firstborn.

Brandon shrugged and filled his glass. “Let’s go down and see the little darlings at play, then.” 

Brynden and Robert helped Hoster Tully. Catelyn knew her father hated being half carried down the stairs, but he wanted to be with everyone, and Catelyn was simply glad the stairs were wide enough to allow it. Lyanna followed those three and then Brandon looked at Cat and said, “After you, Cat.” Catelyn rolled her eyes, but headed down the stairs knowing full well that Brandon was checking out her ass all the way down.

In the basement, she was met with a much different reaction. The girls were beside themselves with excitement. “Mommy, you’re the beautifulest cat ever!” Arya gushed as she ran over to hug her. Sansa followed with a delighted, “I knew it would be perfect!”

Even Robb, Jon, and Bran seemed impressed by her outfit although Robb and Jon soon got immersed in attempting to explain the Xbox controller to Hoster Tully. It seemed to Catelyn that Rickard didn’t understand it much better, but he spoke like he was an expert, having played with the boys earlier, apparently. Brynden was highly amused by his brother’s attempt to join the gaming generation, but he did manage to sneak over and whisper in Catelyn’s ear. “Be careful, Little Cat. I’ve spotted a wolf that wants to eat you up.”

“Oh, Uncle B, Brandon’s harmless enough. He’s just . . .”

“I didn’t say a damn word about Brandon,” Brynden said, arching an eyebrow and then grinning before walking away.

Catelyn had barely paid any attention to Ned since arriving in the basement. Bran had run over to hug her and tell her that her pajamas were the best, but had then gone right back to bossing Ned, Edmure, and Benjen around in his game of cops and robbers. She was gratified to see that Bran did seem to be using his nightstick to good effect on Ben and Ed and smirked at them when either of them braved an amused glance in the direction of her pink, fuzzy cat-eared pajamas. Ned did manage to smile at her and mouth, “Wow!’ at one point which earned him an eye roll before he was pulled back into the game with Bran and Catelyn was pulled by Sansa over to the karaoke machine to sing with her. 

It was actually a lot of fun, and Catelyn almost forgot how ridiculous she looked as she watched so many people she loved enjoy themselves. At some point, Robert, Lyanna, and Brandon went back upstairs, but all the other adults seemed content to hang out with the children. Finally, Catelyn noted that Bran looked almost asleep on his feet and Arya was beginning to yawn and to get angry with increasing frequency. Even Robb and Jon had become rather subdued, and had mostly just been sitting on the couch looking at something on Robb’s iPad since their grandfathers had finally quit playing Xbox and no longer needed their coaching services. When Catelyn announced it was bedtime, there weren’t even too many protests. Sansa did ask if she could sing one last song, and everyone in the basement listened to her sweet little voice sing all three verses of Silent Night. Ned, finally freed from playing policeman as Bran was now on the couch on Uncle Brynden’s lap, came up and put an arm around her while they listened to their daughter. Catelyn couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. 

When Sansa finished, everyone clapped and Edmure exclaimed, “That was beautiful, Mini Cat! Just beautiful!” The smile on Sansa’s face at the praise almost earned Catelyn’s forgiveness for her younger brother.

“I’ve got Monkey, Cat,” she heard her uncle say from behind her. Sure enough, Bran was sound asleep in Brynden’s arms. “I know the way to his bedroom. I’ll get him in his bed.”

Catelyn smiled. “Thanks, Uncle Brynden. Just be very quiet. Rickon’s crib is in Bran’s room now.”

Brynden grinned at her. “Well, that’s convenient, now isn’t it?”

“Uncle Brynden!” she protested, but he just waggled his eyebrows and headed up the stairs with Bran.

“Carry me, Daddy! My legs are too tired!” Arya whined, wrapping her arms around Ned’s legs as he was trying to gather up several dishes left scattered on the floor.

“Hey, don’t trip your dad, Little Wolf,” Benjen said. Then to Ned, he said, “Go ahead and take Arya. Edmure and I can pick up this stuff.”

Ned swung Arya up into his arms and tapped his younger brother with his plastic nightstick. “Don’t even think you’re finished sucking up yet.”

“We know!” Edmure called after Ned as he carried Arya up the stairs. “We’re the bad guys!” 

“Yes, you are,” Catelyn told her little brother.

He grinned at her. “But you gotta admit, sis. You won’t get cold in that thing.”

Catelyn just shook her head. She’d long since taken down the hood, and her hair fell in an unruly mess around her shoulders after being stuffed into the hood. “Just help clean up, Edmure. “Daddy, I’ll send Uncle Brynden and Robert back down to help you up the stairs. Jon, Robb, Sansa, come on. It’s time for bed. Give everybody kisses and hugs, and off we go.”

As Catelyn emerged from the basement and walked into the great room with the three children, she was surprised to see Robert and Brandon in what appeared to be deep, serious conversation. Lyanna was nowhere to be seen. She’d meant to ask Robert to go downstairs and help with her father, but she somehow didn’t feel she should interrupt.

“Where’s my mom, Aunt Cat?” Jon asked her. 

“I don’t know, love. Let’s go find her. You two, head on up to your rooms, and we’ll be right there.”

“But . . .”

“No buts, Robb. Jon will be up momentarily I promise. And tell Uncle Brynden to come down and help Grandpa up from the basement.”

Her two oldest headed toward the stairs, and Catelyn smiled at Jon. “Let’s try the kitchen.” Silently, Jon followed her in there, but it was empty.

“You know, Jon,” Catelyn said. “She may have gone outside. I don’t think anyone—child or adult—loves the snow as much as your mother does. We can ask Robert.”

“Okay,” Jon said, but then he grabbed her arm. “Aunt Cat? Did that make you mad? When Robert and my mom were laughing at . . . at all that stuff?”

Catelyn sighed. “I’m not mad at them, Jon.”

He looked at her as if he didn’t believe that. “Honestly. I’m not mad. I was a little embarrassed. But not really angry.” She smiled at him. “Well, maybe a little angry at Edmure and Benjen. They knew what they doing when your cousins asked them for help buying those gifts. But I’m not even angry at them for embarrassing me or your Uncle Ned. I’m angry because they put my children in a position to be laughed at when all they wanted was to find special presents for us.” Catelyn made a face. “Now that I think of it, maybe I’m still more than a little bit angry at those two.”

“I don’t think they meant to make fun of Bran and the girls,” Jon said earnestly.

“No. No, they didn’t. They love you all you children too much to ever want to hurt you. They were simply so eager to have a laugh at Ned and me that they didn’t quite think through what it meant for the kids. As for your mother and Robert, and even your Uncle Brandon . . . well . . . they were just having fun. Obnoxious fun, perhaps,” she said, ruffling Jon’s hair and smiling. “But we’ve all gotten a bit obnoxious at times when we’re carried away with something funny.”

“Do you think it was funny, Aunt Cat?”

“Well, I didn’t right away. I was too busy being embarrassed. But, I have to admit that a lot of it’s actually pretty funny now. Still embarrassing, though.”

“I don’t think you should be embarrassed, Aunt Cat. I mean . . . I don’t think you would ever . . . I mean . . .” Jon looked at the ground and stopped speaking.

“Now who’s embarrassed?” she teased him gently. When he continued to look down, she put her hand under his chin and gently tilted his face up to look at her. “Jon, I’m not embarrassed about anything your uncle and I have done. You’re ten years old, and I know you and Robb understood a bit more of all that talk than the younger kids did.” His cheeks got just a hint of red, and Catelyn smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not about give you a sex education lecture. It’s just that all of us have parts of ourselves that we like to keep private. Or only share with a few special people. Or one special person. Not because those things are bad or shameful or even embarrassing really. They’re just private. And hearing other people talk and laugh about them doesn’t feel very good. It can make you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.”

Jon nodded. After a moment, he said, “Robert sleeps at our house now.”

“Yes, I know.”

His grey eyes opened wide when she said that. “Robert and Ned had a long talk this evening.”

“He shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t talk about what . . . It’s private, like you said! He should just keep it private.” Jon said.

“Jon, sweetheart, there is a difference between keeping something private and treating something like a secret. Robert spoke to Ned because he’s his best friend. I know you tell Robb things you’d never tell anybody else. Did you tell Robb about Robert sleeping over at your house?”

Jon nodded.

“Well, then, Robert speaking to Ned is no different, is it? What I can tell you is that I’ve heard Robert talk about any number of women over the years, and I know you have, too. And he has not said anything about your mother that even resembles any of that nonsense. Ned and I didn’t even know they were dating until tonight, Jon. And I don’t think that’s because either of them is embarrassed, but more because they did want to keep it private—to keep it theirs for awhile. And coming here together tonight . . . well, they know we love both of them. So I guess it was safe way to step out a bit and test the waters.”

“I didn’t want him to come.”

“Do you not like Robert, Jon? Has he done anything that . . .”

Jon shook his head. “I used to think he was mean. But, I don’t know. He’s loud and kind of . . . a lot, sometimes, but he’s not mean. Mom says that’s because he doesn’t drink anymore. And he doesn’t ignore me. Which is kind of weird because he always ignored all kids. Even his kids. It’s just different, having him in the house so much and the way he and Mom are always . . . touching . . . each other. I didn’t want anybody to laugh at them.”

“Nobody’s laughing at them, Jon,” Catelyn said softly.

“But everybody laughed at you and Uncle Ned. And you’re always so normal! And Mom and Robert are just . . .”

“You listen to me, Jon Stark. I’ve met a lot of people in this world. Happy people, sad people, kind people, mean people, selfish people, generous people. But I’ve never met a “normal” person. Because who’s to say what normal is? We’re all just people. All doing the best we can and sometimes screwing up. I’m not truly mad at anyone for laughing tonight, Jon. And I don’t think your mother would be mad if we’d all been teasing and laughing at her. She might have wanted us to stop. I certainly did. But she wouldn’t have been mad. Because like me, she isn’t doing anything she’s really embarrassed about. So while laughter can be annoying, it can’t really hurt. Your mom’s a tough cookie. And I know that if you’re worried about anything, she’ll talk to you.”

“Yeah. I know that.” Jon yawned. “I think I wanna go to bed now. When you find mom, will you tell her to come up and say goodnight before she and Robert leave?” 

“Of course, I will. Good night, sweetling. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Aunt Cat. And thanks.” 

Catelyn stood quietly in the kitchen a moment as her nephew walked away.

“How do you do that?”

Catelyn nearly jumped out of her skin before whirling around to see Lyanna Stark standing just outside the pantry. 

“How in the hell did you get there? You scared me to death!” She looked more closely at her sister-in-law and realized her eyes were red. “Lyanna? Have you been crying in my pantry?”

“No,” the woman said adamantly. “And if you tell anyone I have, including Ned, I’ll call you a liar to your face.”

Ned’s sister reminded her so much of a defensive Arya then, that Catelyn struggled not to laugh. “All right then,” she said. “Sit down and tell me why you weren’t crying in my pantry.”

Lyanna made a face at her but she sat. “First of all, thanks,” she said. “I wish I could talk to him like that. You just . . . seem to know what to say, and I . . . I don’t. Hell, there’s a reason you and Ned have practically raised him.”

“I take it you heard our conversation.”

“Yeah. Sorry about the whole eavesdropping thing, but Jon really didn’t need to know his mother was . . . not crying . . . in a pantry.” Lyanna smiled ruefully, and Catelyn returned her smile.

“I can relate to that,” she assured her. “Also, you’re not the first woman who’s hidden in that pantry to . . . not cry.” Both women laughed.

“But Lyanna, I don’t think anyone really knows what to say to anyone else about most things. The important thing is just to say something. And to listen. This thing with Robert . . . this new relationship between the two of you—it’s going to be rough for Jon because it’s different. That doesn’t mean it’s not good. It just means you need to pay a lot of attention and get him to talk with you even when it’s like pulling teeth.”

“Getting Jon to talk is always like pulling teeth. He’s worse than Ned was as a boy,” Lyanna said. “But I am glad he’s had you and Ned when I’ve been . . . whatever. Even if it pissed me off that he loved you both so much.”

“Lyanna, what you said before—about Ned and me raising him. We haven’t, you know. We’re here for him. We always will be. We’re here for you, too. That’s what family does. But you’re his mother. He knows that and he wouldn’t have it any other way, regardless of how many nights he spends in this house.”

Lyanna looked at Catelyn as if she didn’t believe her, and her face was so similar to her son’s that Catelyn smiled. 

“What?” Lyanna demanded.

“Nothing. Just that everyone thinks Jon is so much like Ned, and he is a lot like him. But in so many ways, he’s pure you.”

“Poor kid,” Lyanna said.

“Why were in my pantry anyway? Did Robert do something stupid?”

“Robert does or says something fairly stupid multiple times every day. That would hardly be cause for tears,” Lyanna laughed. 

“So Robert didn’t make you cry?”

“No. Well, yes, sort of. But it’s not what you think. Robert hasn’t hurt me. Do you know what he’s doing right now?”

“Talking to Brandon. I saw the two of them in the great room.”

“Yeah. Talking to Brandon. The three of us came up here, and Brandon immediately went straight for the bar. Robert asked him if he really wanted another drink, and Brandon started to get . . . well, you know how Brandon gets. Told him he wasn’t driving anywhere, and he could drink himself into as stupor if he wanted to. And Robert . . . Robert said yeah, you can. I’m the last person who’ll stop you. I’m asking you if that’s really what you want.”

“Wow.” Catelyn couldn’t say anything else. Brandon had been drinking too much for a long time. He’d never responded well to being confronted about it. To have Robert Baratheon, of all people, approach him like that was surprising to say the least.

“He went on to say that he’s only been sober himself five weeks and he doesn’t have the right to tell anybody whether they should or shouldn’t drink because he honestly doesn’t know what anybody else should do. All he knows is that it dawned on him one day that he didn’t really want to be drunk, mean, and miserable, so why the hell did he keep reaching for another drink? Brandon told him that the difference between them is that Brandon isn’t an alcoholic, and Robert just said that’s good. Fix yourself a bourbon then as long as you really want it. He wasn’t loud, he wasn’t obnoxious. He was just talking. And then Brandon—my brother Brandon—sat down, without his glass, and said, What do you think I want, Baratheon?”

Lyanna shook her head. “And Robert told him, I have no idea. I barely even know what I want. I’m getting better at knowing what I don’t want, though. I don’t want there to be three fucked up kids walking around because of the shit show their mother and I made of a marriage. But the kids are there, and they’re all kinda fucked up to varying degrees. And then Brandon got all pissed and asked Robert if he was saying that Brandon had fucked up his kids, and Robert just shook his head and said he barely knew Brandon’s kids. That he barely knew his own kids and that that was messed up. After a little bit, the two of them were both just sitting there talking about their kids and what they wish they could change and how they can’t change anything that’s already done so it’s all about figuring out how to change what happens next. I sat there watching them, Cat. Watching Robert, and I realized he was only talking to get Brandon to talk. I mean, he was being totally honest about all of his shit, but he didn’t need to talk about that stuff. He does that all the time in therapy and at AA. He’d talk just long enough to get Brandon to let go of something, and then just sit there and let Brandon talk. Robert Baratheon—the good listener. When the fuck did that become a thing?”

“Well, it’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Catelyn asked softly. “Robert’s really trying to be a better person than he’s been since he and Cersei first got together.”

“Oh, Robert’s been a shitbag since way before Cersei. I dated him, remember? Don’t get me wrong. I was a shitbag, too. We were about the most fucked-up dysfunctional duo you could imagine. We were bound to blow up, and we did. And we both moved on to new heights of stupidity and abominable behavior. But . . . I left Rhaegar. I told him to go to hell or at least back to his wife which always told me was hell. And I came back here. And for years I told myself that I had completely changed my life for Jon.”

“You did do that, Lyanna.”

“Yeah. I guess I did change my life pretty dramatically. But, Cat, I didn’t really change much about who I am. All the old grudges. All the old hatreds and resentments. All the old ‘my life is hard and so I deserve to leave my kid at my brother’s for awhile to run off for quick fling with a guy I just met’ entitlement. And I always looked at Robert’s completely fucked up life and felt superior. His life was a mess and he remained an unrepentant drunken asshole. Good riddance to that garbage! But . . . look at him now, Cat. In some ways, his life’s still completely fucked. I can’t begin to tell you all the shit that’s so messed up between him and Cersei. And those kids . . . there’s so much wrong with . . .” Lyanna paused and shook her head. “And he can’t fix all that right now. Some of it . . . well, there are things that can never really be fixed. And he’s trying to accept that. But he’s fixing himself. He’s doing the thing that I never did—looking hard in the mirror and working on changing what he sees instead of what anybody else sees. And . . . and I just . . . I’m amazed by that. Robert Fucking Baratheon is making me want to be a better person, and I honestly don’t know how I feel about that.” 

“Wow,” Catelyn said for the second time. “I really need to come up with something better to say, don’t I?” She reached out and took Lyanna’s hand. “I’m glad you’re proud of Robert. Ned is, too. But you do realize that he is only five weeks sober. The chances of him relapsing at some point are pretty high, Lyanna.”

“Oh, I know that. So does he. It’s one of the reasons he keeps me at arm’s length.”

Catelyn raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, not physically,” she laughed. “But emotionally. I do it to him, too. This whole thing with us is as new as his sobriety and we’re kind of treating it the same way—a seemingly very positive thing that could potentially blow up in our faces at any moment. We’re both trying to be careful, but I think both of us want to take a chance on it. And figure out exactly how we feel as we go along. Do you think we’re crazy?”

“Lyanna, I have no idea whether or not I’m crazy. Much less anyone else. Robert’s a risky bet. At the risk of sounding harsh, so are you. But don’t sell yourself short. You have come a long way over the years. Be honest with yourself. Would you and I have even sat down and had this conversation five years ago? Three years ago? Hell, maybe not even last year. We all grow and change. Hopefully for the better. You and I are always going to irritate hell out of each other at times because we’re two very different people in a lot of ways. But we’re a lot alike in some very important ones, and we’ve managed to find an awful lot of common ground. Maybe you and Robert can do the same. Or maybe it will blow up.” Catelyn smiled at her. “In a world where a Christmas gift from my four year old can reveal to my father that I occasionally have sex while handcuffed to the headboard, I’m convinced anything can blow up in your face.”

Lyanna looked stunned a moment and then laughed out loud. “So how on earth do any of us figure out what to do, oh super-secret sex goddess?”

Catelyn snorted at the title and then shrugged. “We take the chances we believe are worth it.”

“There you are!” Ned appeared in the kitchen door. “The kids are asking for you, Cat. Well, Bran’s asleep, and Robb’s too big to ask, but I know he wants a kiss as much as the girls do, and the girls are positively demanding your presence.”

Catelyn laughed. “Come on, Lyanna. Let’s go kiss our babies.”

Ned puckered up at that and Catelyn only tapped his lips with her finger as she passed him. “You’ll get yours later. The goddess has spoken.”

Lyanna howled with laughter and Ned looked at the two of them as if they’d lost their minds.

The kids honestly didn’t need much. They just wanted to see her face and collect their hugs before drifting off to dreamland although both girls did tell her again how wonderful she looked in the pajamas that she’s honestly forgotten she was wearing.

When she got downstairs, the adults were sitting in the great room and Ned had opened a bottle of prosecco. Everyone had a glass, but upon close observation, both Robert’s and Brandon’s contained water.

“We’re toasting a wonderful Christmas,” Ned said as she walked over to him. “Would you like a glass? I’m quite sure one glass of prosecco won’t get Rickon drunk when he wakes up in the morning.”

She laughed. “You’re awful, but yes. I’ll have small glass.”

Everyone stood, including Hoster Tully who leaned on his cane. He raised his glass first. “To our family!”

Everyone clinked their glasses together and then Benjen raised his. “To Christmas!” 

“No!” Edmure said quickly, elbowing him and grinning at Catelyn in her pink kitten pajamas. “To the best Christmas ever!”

Hoster gave him the stink eye, but everyone else laughed, even Rickard Stark, and Catelyn didn’t blush until Ned put his arm around her and said, “Personally, I think my wife looks amazing in these pajamas.”

“And you won’t have to work so hard at keeping her warm,” Benjen mumbled into his glass, causing Edmure to dissolve into laughter.

“If you two think this is over, you are so wrong,” Catelyn informed them. “You will pay.”

“Worth it!” they said simultaneously to twin looks of disapproval from their fathers. Robert Baratheon, however, raised his glass of water to the two of them in salute and said, “Totally.”

Lyanna elbowed him, but then she met Catelyn’s eyes and the two of them dissolved into laughter much to the confusion of everyone else.

After the prosecco, her father announced it was time for the Tullys to depart so Catelyn helped gather up their gifts and Ned threw on a coat (at her insistence) to help Edmure run them out to the car while Brynden got Hoster’s coat and Catelyn got the walker that he hated so much, and she hugged her father and her uncle tightly before they began their slow progress outside. Edmure ran back in to give her a hug, and she hugged him back tightly, but also pinched his arm because he deserved it. 

By the time the Tullys were all in their cars, Benjen and Rickard had their coats on and their arms full of Christmas loot. “It was lovely, Catelyn,” Rickard told her. Then with a twinkle in his eye, he said, “Perhaps you should host every year.”

“Oh, no!” Cat said. “I loved it and I want to do it again, but I think hosting every year may have to wait until we grow some of these kids enough to provide more actual help.” Rickard laughed and moved on to say his farewells to Ned and Brandon.

Her youngest brother-in-law approached her with an apologetic grin. “Cat, I’m sorry about the thing with the kids. I mean I’m sorry that the kids got upset. We never wanted that.”

Catelyn smiled at him. “I know, Ben. You know this story will get told for years, don’t you? When they’re first old enough to understand it, they’ll be mortified, and I’ll send them all to you and Edmure to exact revenge. But eventually, they’ll find it as hilarious as everyone else does, and you two can be the cool uncles again.” 

He grinned at her. “You’re the best, Cat.”

“And you’re still a long way from being out of the doghouse, Ben. So be prepared to do a lot of babysitting and any other tasks I choose to assign you for a long time.”

“Noted,” he said, nodding, and Catelyn laughed and hugged him.

When Ned’s father and little brother were gone, Brandon informed them he was calling it a night, too, and headed off to the guest room. He’d been remarkably quiet since his talk with Robert. Ned and Catelyn returned to the great room to find Robert and Lyanna kissing in front of the fireplace.

“Now where is everyone else when you need them?” Catelyn exclaimed. “You two deserve a little bit of roasting.”

“Nah. We’re only doing what’s expected of us. Nobody’d bat an eye. You two, on the hand . . .” Robert looked disapprovingly at Ned. “You two have clearly been holding out on us.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Robert,” Catelyn said primly. 

“Sorry, Cat! Nobody’s buying that prim and proper act anymore!” He walked over to one of the sofas and pulled the red padded handcuffs from beneath one of the cushions, brandishing them over his head just as Bran had earlier.

Catelyn’s face turned just as red as it had then. “Ned! You said you put those away!”

“I did! I hid it under the cushion so I could find someplace other than the drawer all the children obviously know about to put it later.”

“Oh, I know you’ll think of something to do with these later,” Robert said with another lecherous grin, and Lyanna finally broke down and started laughing.

“Lyanna!” Catelyn squealed at her. “Control him!”

“Robert? Are you delusional? No one has figured out how to control his behavior!”

All four of them laughed at that, and Ned managed to snatch the cuffs away from Robert while he was distracted, securing them to the fake police utility belt he was still wearing.

That caused more giggles from everyone, and then Robert spoke once more. “Well, this is the time of night when I’d normally say, ‘Ned! What else have you got to drink?’ since I’d have emptied every bottle in this room by now. But . . . since I can’t really say that anymore, I think perhaps I’ll just say goodnight my friends. This has been the best night out I can remember in a very long time. Come give me a hug, Cat, and I promise not to pinch your ass.”

Catelyn had been groped and pinched by a drunken Robert more times than she cared to recall, but she now hugged him tightly and said, “We’re so glad you came, Robert. We love you.” And she meant every word. 

Robert moved away from her pretty quickly after that. She knew he wasn’t a man for sentiment. As he wandered off with Ned to get his Lyanna’s coats, Catelyn helped Lyanna gather her and Jon’s gifts. She decided to leave anything that looked like something he might want to play with in the morning, but figured she could safely take all the clothing items.

“My brother’s ogling your ass again,” Lyanna said as she stood up from picking up a box and looked behind Catelyn to where the men were talking.

“Ha. Ha. Brandon went to bed.”

Lyanna laughed. “Who’s talking about Brandon? Catelyn, Ned has been looking at you like you’re dessert since you first came downstairs in that skin tight blanket of kittens. I swear I had to tell him once to put his tongue back in his mouth!”

“You’re awful!”

“You just wait until we’re gone. You know, the boys took bets.”

“Robb and Jon? On what?”

Lyanna cackled. “No, not Robb and Jon. They aren’t there yet, thank God. Brandon, Robert, Benjen, Edmure, and even your uncle, the old dog. On how long it will take Ned to peel that thing off you once we all hit the road.”

“I hate all of you,” Catelyn said shaking her head.

“No, you don’t,” Lyanna said, suddenly serious. “Just like I don’t hate you. Merry Christmas, Cat.”

“Merry Christmas, Lya,” Catelyn said with a smile, pulling her into a hug. 

Robert and Ned had apparently finished their conversation and Robert came over to drape Lyanna’s coat over shoulders and take the majority of the boxes she’d stack up into his arms. Ned hugged his sister, and the two of them headed out. 

The minute the door closed behind them, Ned grabbed Catelyn to him and slid his hands down her back to cup her ass.

“Ned!”

“I have been wanting to do that so long,” he said. “My God, Cat, you have been driving me crazy in this thing. I honestly do feel like some kind of pervert because I’ve never been so turned on by pink kittens before, but those stupid fuzzy little beasts are crawling all over every luscious curve and long beautiful line of your body, and I want to replace every one of them with my mouth.” Then he put his mouth on hers and neither of them spoke for a long moment.

When one of the hands kneading her ass moved up and around to tug at the zipper on her chest, she pulled back. “Stop right there,” she managed to say between ragged breaths.

“Cat . . .” He managed to draw that three letter word into about four anguished syllables, and she laughed at him. 

“You can have anything you want, my love,” she assured him, even as she wriggled out of his arms. “But in our bedroom. With the door locked and barred.” 

He grinned, and then proceeded to grab at her all the way up the stairs, and Catelyn smiled to herself as she let him catch her at the top of the staircase long enough to press his lips to her throat. She loved Christmas, and her Christmas was most definitely not over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go. And it will be quite a bit shorter! :-)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the reason I have changed the fic's rating to mature. It takes place entirely in Ned and Catelyn's bedroom so married people sexy times ahead. :-)

Ned locked the door behind him and grinned at his wife. “Now, come here, beautiful. You are all mine.”

She laughed at him, but eluded his grasp as he reached for her. “Hold your horses, sheriff. I have to pee.”

He sighed dejectedly and gave her his best puppy dog eyes as she walked into their bathroom and shut the door. He caught sight of himself in the bedroom mirror and laughed when he realized he was still wearing the blue costume vest over his shirt. The matching cap lay on the dresser where he’d tossed it after carrying Arya up to bed, and he got a crazy idea. Hopefully, Catelyn wouldn’t pee too quickly.

As it turned out he had more than enough time to get ready. He grinned at his ridiculous reflection and thought about how hard his wife would laugh when she saw him. Then he thought about the way that fluffy, pink cat suit hugged her amazing ass so beautifully, and his hand just wandered of its own accord down to grip his cock and move up and down along the shaft. Catelyn emerged from the bathroom a moment later, still wearing the skin-tight pajamas and stopped immediately when she saw him. Her eyes wandered over his entire body as he stood there in nothing but the police cap and vest and the utility belt. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips just for a moment, moving from one side of mouth to the other, moistening those lips as she spied his erection, and watching her do that almost did him in. She heard him draw in his breath and then looked back up to meet his eyes and smile.

“That’s an awfully big nightstick you have there, Officer Stark,” she drawled as she sauntered slowly toward him. “You won’t hurt me, will you?” She stopped inches in front of him and batted those big blue eyes of hers at him.

_God, this woman is going to be the death of me! But what a way to go._ “Save your sweet talk, lady,” he told her. “You’re under arrest.”

She tossed her head back and put her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture that also displayed the full breasts beneath those damn kittens to excellent advantage. “On what charges?”

Ned jerked the red cuffs from the belt and moved behind her quickly to cuff her hands behind her back. “Lewd and lascivious behavior,” he whispered into her ear from behind her as he snapped the cuffs closed over her wrists. He then put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Corrupt use of innocent baby kittens to incite lustful behavior.”

She did laugh then, and he put her mouth to hers to silence it. He grabbed her tightly against him as he kissed her and while the handcuffs prevented her from using her hands and arms, she kissed him back with abandon and pressed her body into him and rubbed her body in its soft, fuzzy little second skin against his erection. He groaned and pulled back from her.

“That’s the kind of depravity I’ve heard reported about you,” he said as severely as he could while barely able to breathe. “Now look what you’ve made me do.”

With that he reached out and pulled the zipper of her pajamas down exposing her breasts and belly to him. He couldn’t take it off her completely because of the cuffs but he did push it off her shoulders. Her nipples were taut and he bent to take one of them into his mouth while he covered the other breast with his hand and squeezed it gently, rolling its nipple between his fingers. 

She gasped and then made a sexy low-pitched sound in her throat as he teased the nipple in his mouth with his tongue, and he took his other hand and slipped it into the front of those pajamas between her legs. No underwear. Maybe that’s why she’d taken a bit of time in the bathroom. The pajamas were tight enough that he’d been able to see perfectly well she’d been wearing panties earlier. She parted her legs a bit to allow his hand better access only to squeeze her thighs together around his hand and gyrate her hips against his fingers when he touched her precisely the way he’d learned would drive her wild.

The little low noises she was making became a bit louder and then she actually gave a very brief, but much louder high pitched cry as he drove several fingers deep inside her while using his thumb to tease her clit.

He released her nipple from his mouth and stood up to face her. “Catelyn Tully Stark,” he said sharply, gasping for air between each word of her name. “If you dare wake any one of the small humans that are currently sleeping in this house, you will face additional charges.”

“Like what?” she panted at him, and he tried very hard to focus on her eyes rather than on the rise and fall of her breasts with each breath she took. 

“Contributing to the depravity of minors, for one thing. Not to mention, felony cock-blocking.”

That comment was rewarded with peals of laughter, and while he loved her laugh, he really didn’t want any of the children to bang on the door complaining about ‘funny noises.’ He put his hand over her mouth and shook his head at her. “Whatever am I going to do with you, woman?” he asked her.

“Maybe you should find something to keep my mouth occupied,” she said, grinning wickedly at him. 

Before he could respond, she had dropped to her knees, and he felt her warm, soft mouth on him. She ran her lips and tongue over the length of him and then giggled as she worked to get him into her mouth without the use of her hands. When she managed it, he steadied himself with his hands in her hair as she moved her head back and forth and he tried very hard to stand still while his body was practically screaming at him to thrust into her mouth. In almost no time at all, he felt he couldn’t keep from coming if she continued this for even ten more seconds, and he pulled himself back from her with a groan that was very nearly a shout. 

“Now who’s going to wake the children?” she asked him, licking her lips as she stared up at him from her knees with an amused expression.

“You are going to be the death of me, Cat. I swear,” he said, pulling her up to stand.

“Take these cuffs off me, Ned.”

“Oh? And why should I do that?”

“Because I want you in my bed. In my arms. I want my husband.”

The blue eyes he loved better than any eyes in the world were gazing at him as if he were the most desirable, most cherished, most incomparable person on the planet, and it took his breath away. The way she loved him always took his breath away. He was an entirely unremarkable looking guy in his late thirties who was already starting to go grey, really should go to the gym more often, and could never find the words to tell her exactly how he felt. Yet this . . . goddess . . . loved him as if he were the only man on earth worth her love. For some inexplicable reason, she loved him the way he loved her. And he knew the truth of that would steal his breath and make his heart race for all the rest of his life—far more than any silly, sexy games they played with each other, however much fun those certainly were.

He had the cuffs off her within thirty seconds and the kitten pajamas, too. He’d already lost his cap when he’d been sucking her breast, and she pulled the vest and belt off him as soon as her hands were free. The two of them fell naked together onto the bed and made love with everything their bodies and hearts had to offer each other, and Ned thanked God for this magic they’d found. The entire world disappeared when they were alone with nothing between them—so wrapped up in each other that he could scarcely tell where she ended and he began. After more than ten years of marriage and five children, that feeling had grown rather than diminished, and Ned knew with certainty he was the most fortunate man alive.

Much later, they lay there together in the dark, still somewhat wrapped around each other, but in drowsy comfort rather than passionate bliss. Catelyn was lazily running her fingers over his chest as she lay snuggled against him with one leg over his, and he idly toyed with her hair as he moved the hand of the arm that held her up and down her back.

“Merry Christmas,” she murmured.

“I’m sure it’s past midnight by now, Cat,” he said with a chuckle. “We’ve been in this bed quite a while.”

She giggled. “I like being in this bed with you. And I don’t care who knows it.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Well, that’s a good thing since I imagine Robert’s going to tell everyone he ever met about the presents the kids got us.”

“He wouldn’t!” she exclaimed.

“He would. And he will. It’s too good a story for him not to tell. On the bright side, he’ll be telling it sober, so he won’t embellish it to make it lewd, crude, and utterly shocking.”

“Well. I wish him great success in being the sober life of whatever New Year’s Party he attends.” She raised her head up to kiss his cheek. “Honestly, I’m more than willing to suffer a bit of embarrassment if it makes sobriety easier for Robert to handle socially.” Then she sighed. “My sister doesn’t think tonight’s gift exchange needs any embellishment to be lewd, crude, and utterly shocking. I can’t imagine what she’ll be saying about me now.”

“Who cares?” Ned asked.

“Ned!” She smacked his chest lightly. “She is my sister. I hate that she’s so terribly unhappy. I know her marriage is nothing like ours, but I wish she could just let herself be happy.”

“I know, Cat. But you can’t make Lysa stop being her own worst enemy any more than I can stop Brandon.”

“I think maybe Robert can help Brandon.”

“Robert? Robert needs to concentrate on helping himself.”

“Oh, I know that. It’s just . . . well, he had a rather serious conversation with Brandon tonight. I saw the two of them talking and Lyanna told me about some of it. And . . . well, didn’t you notice how quiet Brandon was at the end of the evening? Or that he switched from bourbon to water?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I noticed anything but pink kittens that appeared to be body-painted on my wife from the moment you came downstairs in that thing, Cat.”

“You’re awful,” she said, smacking his chest again. But then, quietly, she asked, “You really don’t think I looked too bad in it? I nearly died when I realized how tight it was, especially with this flabby baby belly so obviously still hanging around. I swear getting rid of it gets harder after every baby, and every time I looked down at the front of me in that too-tight thing I just . . . Ugh.”

“Stop,” Ned said, pulling her tighter against him. Every time she expressed any insecurity in her looks, it made him angry—not at her, but at whatever put such ridiculous notions into her head. “You looked hotter than hell. I believe I might have mentioned that to you once or twice. And every man in the house tonight who isn’t a blood relative of yours spent far too much time looking you up and down. Hell, even Jon Arryn kept watching you every time you got up to walk somewhere! I swear to God, Cat, if all those assholes weren’t my relatives or dear friends, I’d have likely punched somebody tonight!”

“My hero!” she said, laughing. “Always here to defend my honor!”

“Well, I don’t know that I’m much of a hero. But I’m definitely a jealous man who still has to work very hard to accept the idea that every straight man in the world who isn’t blind is going to look at my beautiful wife. And that I’m not allowed to punch them all for it.” 

“No, you are not,” Catelyn told him firmly. “But I think you imagine things because somehow I’ve never seen all these men ogling me.”

“Hmmph,” He shook his head. “Then you’re just not paying attention.”

“To other men?” she asked lightly. “I’m not. I already have the only man that matters so the others don’t interest me.” She raised up again and pulled herself up to rest her chin on her hands on his chest and look at his face. “But if _you’re_ spending all this time looking at other men, is there something you need to tell me?”

“Damn it, you’re on to me. I only married you because your Uncle Brynden told me I’m not his type.”

Catelyn’s laughter was music to his ears. He’d never get tired of hearing her laugh. He hoped they’d still be laughing in bed together when they were ninety.

“Oh, my,” she said when she finally quit laughing. “I could tell him you said that, you know! If you think we’re never going to live down this present thing, that little remark is something Uncle Bryn could have a field day with for years!”

“True. I’ll just have to depend upon your merciful nature, my love, and hope you won’t rat me out.”

“Well, you do have your ways of getting pretty much anything you want from me so I imagine you’re safe.” She yawned. “We should go to sleep at some point though. Rickon won’t let me sleep in the morning even if the others are worn out enough to give us an extra hour or two.”

“But it’s so much more fun to stay awake,” Ned whined in passable imitation of Bran or Arya. Then he pulled her all the way on top of him and held her there by planting his hands firmly on her ass.

“Absolutely not, Eddard Stark!” she laughed. “Some of us would like to be able to walk tomorrow.”

He laughed. “Walking’s overrated. But at this point, I’m afraid I’m all talk anyway. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is . . . blissfully sated and completely exhausted by the red-headed wild woman in my bed.”

“Oh, good. My work here is finished. Now remove your hands from my ass, and let’s go to sleep, my love.”

“Can’t I sleep with my hand on your ass?”

“Certainly, but you have to let me get situated first.” She rolled off him and then scooted her backside up against him encouraging him to roll toward her and throw his arm over her. “Mmm, that’s nice,” she said, settling into the little spoon position and making him wonder why the hell anybody would ever want to wear pajamas.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“You just told me it’s not Christmas anymore.”

“You always make me feel like Christmas,” he said.

“Aww, that’s sweet, Ned.” She yawned again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He yawned himself. “Ten bucks says Bran wakes me up to play cops and robbers as early as Rickon wakes you to be fed.”

“I’m not taking that bet because you’re probably . . . . Oh God! What have we done?”

“Cat? What’s wrong?” 

She spun around to face him. “We have much bigger problems than our family and friends teasing us for the next twenty years. I can handle that. But . . . oh dear God.”

“What are you talking about, Cat?”

“Bran! Our son . . . our precious, innocent little four year old son is going to make you wear that police costume and play with him as often as he can at least for the next few months. You know that, right?”

“Of course, I do. I don’t mind. I’m glad my son thinks I’m cool enough to play with.”

“But . . . Ned . . . don’t you see what we’ve done? You’re going to be helping Bran arrest imaginary bad guys, and all I’m going to be able to see is you . . . In that hat and that vest with that belt . . . . and nothing else but your . . . um . . . nightstick . . . standing tall and proud. How am I going to see anything else?” She rolled onto her back and covered her face with her hands. “You do realize that it’s not okay to get ridiculously turned on from watching your husband play cute, innocent dress up games with your kids! And God forbid he asks me to play the bad guy!” She lowered her hands and turned to look at him. “You know the girls will make me put those ridiculous pajamas back on in the morning. I’ll have to put them on before I ever leave the room, actually, so they think I slept in them.”

“So? I already told you I like you in those pajamas.”

“Ned! Are you honestly telling me, you could cuff my hands behind my back in front of our children while I’m wearing those pajamas and not think about tonight?”

His treacherous mind instantly presented him with a vision of Catelyn on her knees, those pajamas falling down just off her shoulders but kept on her arms by the handcuffs, her hair falling down over her breasts while her head moved back and forth in his hands as she . . . “Oh, fuck,” he said, as one body part let him know it might not be quite so exhausted as he’d thought, apparently being stirred from its slumber simply by the memory. 

“Hmm,” his wife murmured as she slipped her hand down to confirm the evidence that Ned had indeed realized their new problem. Not that her hand being there did anything to alleviate his growing immediate problem. “So you do understand what I’m talking about?” she asked.

“Cat . . . that’s not helping,” he told her.

“What? Oh! Sorry. But honestly, Ned. If just thinking about it does this . . .”

“Yeah,” he said, somewhat distracted by the fact that in spite of her apology, Cat’s hand was still resting against his cock. “Um, it’s snowing still. The kids love snow. I’ll tell Bran we’re going to eat breakfast first—I can probably get through breakfast with you wearing those pajamas as long as you don’t look at me like . . . well, you know.”

“I can manage that, as long as you aren’t in your police gear, Officer Stark.” The teasing lilt as she said ‘Officer Stark’ affected him pretty much the same way her hand against his cock did at the moment, and Ned forced his mind to focus on her words instead of her hand or voice. “But what does that have to do with snow?”

“I’ll tell Bran that we have to track some criminals through the snow after breakfast. You and I can go upstairs after we eat, and I’ll get the stupid vest and hat to put on after I go outside and you can dressed so you won’t be in the stupid ‘come fuck me’ kitten pajamas by the time we come back in. And my being out in the cold might help the situation, too.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe we’re actually lying here planning how not to get horny over our children’s perfectly innocent gifts! Maybe we are as depraved as my sister thinks we are. I mean, do other people have these problems?”

“Cat, um, speaking of problems . . . Your hand . . .”

“Oh!” she laughed, wrapping her damn hand around his cock rather than moving it away. “My, my! You do have a bit of a problem, don’t you?” Her hand began moving up and down along his shaft.

“You aren’t helping.”

“No?” She moved her hand faster. “Is this better?”

“Are you trying to kill me? You said you wanted to go to sleep. I am not going to be able to sleep like this!”

She laughed and pulled herself atop him. “And you think I can sleep now? We both have the same problem, my love. Mine just isn’t quite as visible.”

He reached out to touch her as she rolled him completely on his back and sat up to straddle him. “You do have a bit of a problem,” he said, smiling at her as he felt the slickness of her arousal. 

“I’ll help you with yours if you help me with mine. But Ned, I really am exhausted. I’ll start on top, but I’m not sure how long I can do it this way.” She laughed. “Oh my god, what is wrong with us?”

“Not a damn thing,” Ned said. “This is good.” He grunted softly as Catelyn settled herself onto his now very much awake and ready cock. “If we do this all night, we might be too sleep deprived to even think about sex come daylight.”

“Mmm,” she said as she moved slowly up and down as he held her hips. “Perhaps you have a point.”

They didn’t talk much after that. They made love much more slowly this time, and they did switch positions before they finished, and when they lay spent in each other’s arms, they just looked at each other and laughed until they couldn’t breathe. When the laughter finally subsided, Catelyn said, “Seriously, Ned. Do other people have these problems?”

Ned looked at the beautiful woman in his arms and kissed her softly. “My love,” he said. “We have the most amazing children on this earth. Our friends and relatives are undoubtedly the absolute craziest people alive but somehow still the best people I know. I am so in love with my wife that sometimes I can’t breathe, and making love to her is the sweetest thing I know. And I flatter myself that my wife feels the same way about me.”

“Oh, she does,” Catelyn said, smiling. “She definitely does.”

“Well, I’m afraid very few people have our particular problems, Cat. They just wish they did. And I’m happy as hell that we do.”

She laughed again and kissed him. As he felt her fall asleep beside him, Ned Stark thought this just may have been the best Christmas of his life. And with this woman beside him and the family they’d made, he looked forward to all the Christmases and all days yet before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of this silly little tale! I hope it made you smile or even laugh. This has been my Christmas gift to all of you who love Ned and Catelyn and the Starks, all of you enjoy reading my fics, and all of you who make me smile wider than you'll ever know with your lovely comments.
> 
> Merry Christmas to all who celebrate this holiday, a Happy New Year and wishes for a 2019 filled with joy and blessings to everyone!


End file.
